


what did you expect

by vivevoce



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: College AU, Coming of Age, Coping With And Overcoming Emotional Damage, Families of Choice, Friends to Lovers, Gen, Healthy Relationships, How To Take Care Of Your Fucked Up Friends, JJ and Mila Deserve Awards, M/M, Multi, Non-Linear Narrative, Otabek Has Hella Issues, Recreational Drug Use, Slow Burn, Who Tops? How About Both
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-28
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2018-10-12 01:26:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 31,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10478961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vivevoce/pseuds/vivevoce
Summary: At some point, Yuri makes the Best Decision/Worst Mistake of his young life in befriending the flaming trainwreck that is Otabek Altin. He can't quite bring himself to regret it, so he  decides on enjoying the ride and Not Screwing Things Up.(Spoiler alert: Ofcoursehe would fall in love with the flaming trainwreck. Mila's gonna kill him.)





	1. never met someone quite like you

**Author's Note:**

> in a nutshell, in this AU:  
> \- all of the canonical age differences still apply (Yuri is the youngest, Otabek/Mila/JJ are all roughly 3+ years older than him, Yuuri is 8+ years , and Victor is 12+ years)  
> \- they're based heavily in American culture, but retain all their original cultural/national backgrounds  
> \- timeline is non-linear, but starts off with Yuri in his first year of high school, and Otabek and the others in university, and Yuuri and Victor are established working adults
> 
> that's about it, enjoy

* * *

  
“I think… I might not… be straight,” Yuri finishes awkwardly.

“Hey, congrats,” Otabek says, exactly how Yuri expects him to. His eyes gently crinkle at the corners as he smiles. “What made you realize?”

Yuri swallows, his mouth suddenly dry. He thinks of strong hands with square knuckles overlapping his on a steering wheel. Thinks of lean jawlines and the soft fade-to-black of hair as seen from behind. Thinks of the subtle dip of collarbones beneath the collar of a varsity jacket.

“Just a feeling,” Yuri settles on finally. He picks at the strings of his hoodie, trying to remain casual.

Otabek glances knowingly from the corner of his eye. “Welcome aboard,” he teases. “Is it just guys or girls too?”

“I think it's just guys,” Yuri mumbles, face flaming.

“Cool.”

And that's that. He doesn't interrogate more, just accepts it and moves on so Yuri isn't embarrassed.

Yuri is so fucked.

 

::

 

He’ll see the hickeys sometimes, peeking small and purple above the collar of Otabek’s t-shirts. Or he’ll notice Otabek glance at a text on his phone, before smoothly shifting the screen away from Yuri’s line of view. One time, Otabek shows up with a jacket and says, “You forgot this at my place,” and Yuri had only glanced at it in confusion.

“That’s not mine.”

Otabek’s eyebrows furrow, before smoothing as he remembers. “Oh. My bad.”

He doesn’t get jealous exactly, because he’s too used to Beka being taken, or Beka casually hooking up. But it always sends a little sharp stab of adrenalin through him. A reminder, that there’s certain sides of him that Yuri doesn’t get to see.

Yuri tries to remember that he still gets all the important sides of Beka that 90% of the public doesn’t: Beka, studying in a navy sweater and half-frame glasses, because he’s too lazy to put in his contacts. Beka, laughing, with a smear of sauce on his cheek from a fast food run. Beka loudly cussing him out as they play on his PS4. Beka, vulnerable and still, saying that Yuri understood him best.

But how _can_ he understand? There’s all the other sides of him that Yuri doesn’t see.

Beka, with his hair effortlessly mussed, DJ-ing until two in the morning. Beka, coked out and fucked up, in a leather jacket with a condom in his wallet. Beka, breathless and slipping half-dressed against white sheets. Beka, aloof and unemotional, jealous and insecure.

Yuri avoids thinking about it, because on the one hand, he wants to know all of Otabek. But on the other, he’s afraid. Afraid that, once he does, he won't like that person. The chance exists for him to love Otabek less, and that has to be the worst and guiltiest secret Yuri has ever kept. He doesn't want that to happen, so he doesn’t ask about it, and Otabek doesn’t talk about it.

They’re safe like this.

 

::

 

Yuri finishes off his tall can, leaning back against the playground set. Beka is on his third one across from him. He hasn't spoken much all night, and Yuri doesn't push, even though it'd been Otabek who had texted him out of nowhere asking him to come. Yuri can sense whatever it is will be hard, and so he spends the night distracting him: talking about the latest horror movie that came out, even though the director was supposed to be pretty overrated. How Grandpa had come home from an old friend’s, with a huge crate of rare vinyls, and now Yuri's getting a crash course in classic rock and jazz. How Mila dragged him to this hyped up eatery downtown that served Mexican and Korean fusion, and how _weirdly good_ it was, Beka I _need_ to take you.

Otabek responds in all the right places, chuckles when he’s supposed to, but underneath he's so _sad_ that Yuri almost drops the act altogether to ask what's wrong. Yuri knows better though, so he keeps it lighthearted and avoids bringing any of his own issues up, leaving the floor open for Otabek.

Finally, two more beers later when they're lying on their backs watching the moon, Otabek says it.

“Tanya cheated on me.” Yuri remains silent. “I found out this morning. There was a hickey behind her ear, and we haven't… She lied to my face when I brought it up.” Otabek lowers his forearm over his eyes. He continues tonelessly, as if stating it as a fact would lessen its impact. “I wish I was surprised. But I'm not.”

“You didn't deserve that,” Yuri whispers finally, when Otabek refuses to say anything further.

“You sure? Apparently I'm too emotionally closed off,” Otabek states, and Yuri can tell he's quoting her rather than any of his own thoughts. “I make her feel alone just being in the same room as her. I take too long to commit. I don't think of anyone but mysel--”

“Okay, that's bullshit and you know it,” Yuri spits harshly. Otabek still hasn't removed his arm. Yuri is almost certain he's leaving it there until his composure is back. “Beka, none of that makes what she did okay? And honestly, if she's got the balls to guilt trip _you,_  fuck her. You deserve better.”

Otabek stays silent for so long Yuri thinks he's shut down again. “Thanks, Yura.”

“Beka, _seriously?_ Do you actually believe what she’s saying?”

“I don't know.”

Yuri is stunned. Maybe Otabek is more drunk than he thought.

“She's not wrong,” Otabek continues. “I’m a shitty boyfriend and I don't know what I expected. Or what I deserve at this point.”

“Not being _cheated on or lied to?”_ Yuri is incredulous. “Jesus Christ, Beka. Okay, fine. Let's say what she said was valid. I can think of at least a _thousand_ better ways of handling it?”

Otabek laughs humorlessly and turns his face away from Yuri. Yuri desperately wants Otabek to just look at him when he says this, but Yuri will settle for using his words.

“Beka... it's not your fault.” Otabek’s shoulders soften. “You deserve to be with someone who doesn't… I don’t know. Make you feel like shit just for being who you are. Someone who feels happy when they’re around you, not alone. Or, just…”

Yuri pauses to think about it.

“... Someone who respects that you're not perfect, but there's so much good in you to work with? Like… It's really not that hard to wait until you're ready to talk. Or call you out on your shit when you're being stubborn. Or tell you the fucking truth when you ask for it. She just didn't bother.”

Otabek doesn't say anything, but Yuri can tell he's thinking it over.

Eventually, Yuri senses that he doesn't actually want space, despite being turned away, so Yuri rolls into his side. Otabek’s arm comes up to pull him in, and he asks in an almost steady voice, “You cold, Yura?”

“Yeah,” Yuri lies, for Otabek’s sake. Yuri hugs back tightly and pretends he doesn't feel the dampness seeping into his shoulder. They stay like that for a long time.

 

::

 

“I'm glad Otabek has you,” JJ tells Yuri one day. “He doesn't have a lot of friends.”

Yuri ponders that. Otabek's told him as much too, but it's hard to imagine why. Beka always knows a guy who knows a guy; he’s friendly with a lot of people for someone who has no friends. Asides from that, he’s always being invited out, or tagged in photos with large groups, or being sought out in general.

“Why is that?” Yuri asks.

“Most people just want to fuck him.” Silence. JJ shrugs. “Or, I don’t know, ask him for connections. He’s easy to get along with, but not the easiest to get close to. He doesn't have a lot of friends.”

Yuri doesn't know what to say to that. Yuri doesn't have a lot of friends, but the friends he does have… God, what wouldn't they do for him? Mila and Victor and Yuuri and Otabek.

Beka doesn't have that. It's sad.

“I'm glad he has you,” Yuri admits, and JJ quirks an eyebrow in wry amusement. This might be the first nice thing Yuri’s said to him, though this isn’t the first time they’ve gotten together to bitch about Otabek’s piss poor decisions together.

“Thanks. I try.”

He does better than try, but Yuri's met his quota of nice things for the day so he doesn't say it.

 

::

 

If anyone ever asks later on, Yuri will leave out the part where he met his best friend at age fifteen while they were puking into the bushes at two in the morning.

“Hey asshole,” Yuri whisper-shouts, trying not to get caught as he’s busy sneaking out himself. He wrinkles his nose, recognizing the sharp smell of alcohol amidst the grassy, pre-dawn dew. “Mind keeping it down?”

Drunk Asshole wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Sorry,” he replies, surprisingly polite as he straightens up. The streetlamps don’t reveal much except gelled back hair, dark street clothes, and a voice that sounds like it might be a lot older than Yuri’s. He glances at Yuri’s skateboard tucked under one arm and lingers on his pulled up hoodie. He sounds amused. “Shouldn’t you be in bed?”

“Shouldn’t you?” Yuri shoots back.

Drunk Asshole shrugs. “Got me there. I’m Otabek.”

“Yuri. You gonna keep standing in front of my house or?”

“Sorry. Was lookin’ for my apartment. Just moved in.”

“Oh.” Yuri can’t say he’s seen him around before, so that makes sense. “Uh. Need any help?” Yuri really hopes he says no. He’s only offering because some vague sense of responsibility says letting a drunkard wander alone sounds like a bad idea. But then again, so does talking to strangers at night, so what does Yuri know?

“Nah. I know my way. Just…” Otabek sticks his hands into the pockets of his jacket, shivering a little. It’s cold. “Took a little detour.”

Yuri snorts. “Uh huh. A detour.” Yuri is unimpressed, dropping his skateboard and popping it up with one foot. “Well. Good luck. Don’t die.”

Otabek tilts his head. “Do you do this a lot?” he asks unexpectedly. Yuri is taken aback.

“Do what?”

“Skate alone at night,” Otabek elaborates more. “Talk to strangers. Seems a little risky.” 

Yuri pauses. “Do _you_ do this a lot?”

Now Otabek's the one caught off guard. “Do what?”

“Announce your presence in a new neighborhood by puking into people’s front yards?”

Otabek’s mouth pulls up into a little half smile. “Alright, you win. Have a nice night, Yuri.”

Yuri smirks. “You too.”

 


	2. welcome to the neighborhood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> write a fuckboy AU, they said  
> it'll be fun, they said  
> why are there _feelings_ , they shrieked 
> 
> porque no los dos?

* * *

 

Otabek Altin had moved into the newly built and expensive-looking apartments a block or two from Yuri’s house. Yuri assumes he’s a university student, judging from his age and the fact that it’s a short drive onto campus.The school is kind of high-ranking, so Yuri really isn’t surprised. (He’ll later come to learn that Otabek spitefully got as high grades as he could and moved to the farthest, most prestigious party school possible from his parents. But that comes later.)

The second time he properly meets the guy, it’s in broad daylight, and Otabek is in normal person clothes, doing normal person things. Yuri has to do a double take as he’s on his way home from class.

“Hey,” he calls, and Otabek’s head turns. He takes a second to recognize Yuri, before pulling that same half-smile he did last time. It looks better in daylight. Actually, all of him looks better in broad daylight.

“Hey Yuri,” Otabek answers casually. Yuri is surprised he remembers, considering he was so drunk.

“So you really do live here,” Yuri inclines his head towards Otabek’s mailbox, which he’d just retrieved a stack from. “Either that, or you’re stealing someone’s mail.”

“Definitely stealing,” Otabek agrees, flipping through them. Fast food ad, fitness magazine, water bill, coupons. He hands Yuri the water bill, which states _Otobak Altin_ along with his address neatly in the corner. “Wouldn’t bother stealing this guy’s identity though. No one would ever get my name right.”

“Oh come on, it’s not that hard,” Yuri says indignantly on his behalf. It doesn’t sound like it’s from here, but it’s literally six letters. “O-t-a-b-e… k? C?”

“You guessed it right the first time,” Otabek says lightly. “It’s Kazakh. They got Altin right though.”

“Oh, cool. It’s okay, my last name’s Plisetsky. That’s a bitch for people to say and write.”

“Is that Russian?”

“Yup. I’m three quarters. My mom was part Italian.”

As soon as he says that, he curses himself, hoping Otabek isn’t perceptive enough to catch the slip-up. He does.

“Oh.” Otabek looks at him oddly. “Was?” Damn it. Yuri looks down to the ground, scuffing his shoes.

“Yeah. Car accident,” he shrugs, as lightly as he can. “My dad too. I live with my grandpa.”

“... Oh.” He looks up, certain that he’s about to get some unwelcomed sympathy. Otabek just looks thoughtful. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It’s okay.”

“I’m sorry for puking in your bushes too.” Otabek smiles with both sides of his mouth this time, trying for a joke. Yuri is grateful for the option of moving on in the conversation. “I hope your grandpa forgives me.”

“He doesn’t know it was you.” Yuri smiles back. “I just pretended to be surprised the next morning.”

“Wow. My hero.” Otabek deadpans. “I’ll try not to let it happen again.”

“You’d better not. See you around?”

“Yeah. See you around.”

 

::

 

The next time they meet, it’s on a weekend. Mila is over, idling in her Honda with the stereo on blast, as she’s waiting for Yuri.

“Don’t look now,” Mila says as he gets in, “But there’s a hot guy working out on his balcony across from your house.”

“Creep,” Yuri snorts, though he does turn around in the passenger seat as they drive by. He pauses. “Oh. That’s Otabek.”

Mila almost crashes them both into a telephone pole. “You know him?!”

“WATCH WHERE YOU’RE GOING, JESUS.” God bless seatbelts. “And yeah. We’ve met like, once or twice.”

“You’ve been holding out on me,” Mila accuses, straightening her wheel. “I’m hurt.”

“Mila, you’re literally seeing two other guys right now,” Yuri deadpans. “You’ll live.”

“STILL.”

They make it maybe five minutes in companionable small-talk when Yuri pauses. “Oh... shit, I forgot my wallet.” Mila glares at the stop light a little too hard. “Do you mind turning back?”

“UGH, the things I’ll do for you,” Mila grouses, flipping an entirely illegal U-turn. Several cars honk indignantly. “You’re lucky I’m a generous and giving soul.”

“You’re a hag with a car. That’s all you’re good for.”

“Get out and walk, Plisetsky.”

Yuri flips her off, blowing a kiss when she reaches over to punch him and misses. “Thanks, baba.”

“I hate that nickname,” Mila says, like she’s said every time he’s used it since he was eight. “Just go get your money. You’re paying this time.”

“Fine, fine,” Yuri rolls his eyes, jumping out. He turns around and runs smack into someone’s chest.

“Oof,” he goes intelligently, before realizing it’s Otabek. Luckily, neither of them had gotten bowled over. “Shit, sorry.”

“Hey Yuri. Fancy running into you.” Oh wow, he makes shitty puns too? Yuri snorts, taking in Otabek’s athletic wear and earbuds. No wonder, he’d probably been zoned out.

“Lame. Sorry, running late. Oh.” He leans his head into the open car window and shouts, “Baba, this is Otabek. Otabek, this is Mila, my best friend. Nice seeing you, gotta run.” And then he dashes into his house.

The two exchange highly awkward, but amused looks. _Is he always like this?_ Otabek’s glance seems to ask. _Yup,_ Mila’s nod confirms.

“Have a nice run?” Mila tries, and Otabek nods politely.

“Thanks. I’ll get going now. Enjoy your day.”

 

::

 

The next time they meet, Yuri is getting dropped off by Yuuri and Victor. Otabek is walking a fucking _motorcycle_ into the parking spot across the street, helmet under one arm. Victor’s heart-shaped mouth betrays his utter delight. “Is this the boy you’ve been telling us about?” he asks, shameless and loud. Otabek must hear him, because he looks up, waving when he recognizes Yuri.

“Shut up, you’re so embarrassing,” Yuri hisses, waving back. He’s flushing bright red.

“I’m wounded.” A dramatic hand flutters over Victor’s heart, and Yuri sees Yuuri rolls his eyes across from him. “How could you say that? I’m your favorite cousin.”

“You’re my ONLY cousin,” Yuri huffs. “And I like Katsudon better at this point, he doesn’t say embarrassing shit like--”

“He’s coming over,” Yuuri announces abruptly, and Yuri’s head whips around. Oh shit. “BYE, THANKS FOR THE RIDE, GET LOST.” Yuri slams the door before either of their shit eating grins can produce actual words.

Otabek watches them pull away. “Are those your friends?”

“My cousin,” Yuri explains, still blushing. “And his boyfriend.”

“Ah. Where’d you get back from?”

“Downtown. They wanted to try out this new sushi restaurant, because Victor’s bougie like that. You?”

“Downtown too actually. I was meeting up with a friend earlier.”  

“Oh, nice.”

“Yeah. He was showing me around, he moved down here first. Know any good places? I’m assuming you’ve lived here for longer.”

Yuri raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, actually. Want me to show you around sometime?”

“Sure.” Otabek looks pleased. “It’s nice to make friends with the locals.”

“If that’s what you want to call it,” Yuri snorts. “I’m free on the weekends. Trade you numbers?”

“Wow, you sure? I might be a serial killer.”

“I think I’ll take the chance.”

“Good.”

They exchange contact information and Yuri follows him on Instagram as well, though he’s more than a little disappointed. “What the fuck? You only have four posts?”

“I never use it,” Otabek shrugs. “Just text me.”

 

::

 

The first thing Yuri learns about Otabek is that he's also an only child. His parents had him and apparently decided they were too busy with their million-dollar joint business to have another. Otabek is majoring in something with a three part title because of them (something-something Organic Chemistry) and Yuri had felt his brain fizzle and die.

“Wow. Uh. Do you like it?”

Otabek shrugs. “Not really,” he says flatly. “But I’m good at it, so that’s what counts.”

Point taken.

Yuri relates to the lonely, only child part. The rest, not so much. Yuri’s always had an extremely supportive background, with Nikolai and Lilia and Yakov constantly encouraging him to pick a passion and pursue it. The problem was, he’s a little too talented and nothing he likes is a solid career choice, and thus, this makes him very directionless.

“It’s okay,” Otabek says comfortingly. “You’re still in high school. There’s plenty of time to choose.”

“I guess.”

“What are you interested in?”

“Dance,” Yuri replies instantly. He’s done it all his life, starting from his first steps in a ballet studio with Lilia to figure skating on the weekends with Yakov. “Skateboarding. Anything physical comes pretty easily. But…” Yuri trails off.

“What’s wrong with that?”

What’s wrong is he knows how much Yakov charges his actual skaters. He knows the amount of discipline it took to get to Lilia’s level of expertise. And he knows that it’s a short shelf-life, if he turns out not to be the best.

“Not exactly something that pays the bills,” Yuri mutters in the end, thinking of how hard his grandfather works to put him through school. He can’t wait until he turns sixteen and is able to get a working permit.

“No one’s stopping you though,” Otabek shrugs. “You should. It’s your passion.”

Yuri looks at him oddly, but doesn’t comment, realizing Otabek’s probably projecting a little bit.

“It’s not exactly that simple,” he answers, leaving it at that.

Yuri’s not exactly poor, but he’s not well off either--Otabek just seems to do whatever the fuck he wants, and it’s disconcerting sometimes. He’s not show-offy about it, but it peeks out in little ways: the comfortable lifestyle, how he never has to hesitate when it comes to any expenses, his wardrobe that consisted entirely of monochromatic Adidas sportswear and high-end brands. Yuri, on the other hand, is hyper competent for a high schooler. He’s responsible for himself and his grandfather, taking on most of the household chores and being very efficient when it came to just about everything.

Despite that, they get along extremely well, barely even noticing the age difference. Otabek has this easy, quiet presence and dry humor that fits perfectly with Yuri’s caustic, excitable personality. They become fast friends, always hanging out since they live so close. It’s easy to hit Otabek up last minute with something and then just skateboard down the street to him. Otabek has a spare helmet, and takes him riding sometimes, even giving him a lift home from school if Otabek gets out of his Thursday labs early. Yuri wonders how Otabek has so much free time, since they see each other so often. Otabek tilts his head thoughtfully when Yuri brings it up.

“I think I just enjoy your company the most.”

 

::

 

The second thing Yuri learns about Otabek is that his first and only real friend was named Jean Jacques Leroy, who he called JJ for short. They met when Otabek was about thirteen, pushed together during an enormous networking dinner his parents threw. At first, Otabek was very cold to him--partly from jealousy (the Leroys were, by all accounts, extremely close and happy) and partly because he hated coming off as a charity case. But eventually, through the sheer power of JJ’s formerly-Canadian sunshine and inability to hear the word “no”, they became friends. Good friends, a point that JJ hammered home by dragging him to all their family holidays and vacations.  
  
"I'll introduce you guys one day. He and his fiancee share an apartment a few miles from here.”

“Fiancee? Isn't he like, your age?"

"Yup."

"... Wow."

"Yeah, I know. They're actually pretty good together though."

"That's good. Do you mostly hang out with them?"

"Mhm. They’re nice. We all go to school together. I just don’t prefer third-wheeling.”

Yuri thinks about Victor and Yuuri and shakes his head. Yeah, he gets why Otabek mostly hangs out with him now.

 

::

 

The third thing he learns about Otabek is that he is seriously AWFUL at dating. In fact, awful might be an understatement; he's horrendous. Yuri struggles to wrap his head around how someone can be so healthy as a friend and yet such a nightmare to date. Otabek doesn't have much to say about his past few relationships except for a shrug and a vague, "It didn't work out."

Yuri finds out the real reasons from JJ years later, when they finally get close enough to start comfortably interacting without Otabek around. The reasons all sound pretty much the same: unhealthy. Either they were super toxic, or super possessive, or some combination of the two.  
  
"Is that his _type?"_ Yuri asks in bewilderment.

JJ snorts. "Kitten, you have no idea."

"Don't call me that," Yuri says automatically, but leans in even closer. "Tell me more."

"Oh my god." JJ looks like he's waited all his life to hear those words. "Bella just tunes me out. You actually _share my pain_."

"Ugh. Is he that bad?"

"Take a seat. This is gonna take a while."

If it isn't a relationship, it's one night stands. Or perfectly normal people who are in love with him, that he somehow turns into friends with benefits. The ones who make it past being friend-zoned quickly realize that he's got _issues_ , AND low-key panic attacks that no one really knows how to handle, AND really avoidant tendencies learned from his previous relationships.

"SERIOUSLY?"

"Yup." JJ sips bitterly on his Dr. Pepper. "I don't even bother learning their names at this point."

"Me  _neither."_

"I'm so happy you get it," JJ repeats fervently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> baba means "grandma" in Russian but i picture him being unable to say her last name as a kid and it just stuck


	3. that explains a lot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok seriously, the feels rn
> 
> Victor would've been Fucked with a capital F if he'd never met Yuuri, just saying

* * *

 

Otabek’s parents were exactly the kind of people that made you stop and question why the fuck they decided to have kids in the first place. Or well, _a_ kid. At least they stopped with Otabek.

Otabek doesn’t talk about them a lot, but the few things he does say add up.

Like, for instance, his first language isn't Kazakh. It's Spanish and Russian, because those were the languages his nannies spoke. The kindhearted gardener taught him to ride a bike, and his parents paid someone else to give him swimming lessons, forgetting they promised to take him to the ocean. His childhood consisted of being enrolled in so many things that he didn't have time to be lonely, but at least he got to choose. Drums, guitar lessons, and eventually a professional full controller set when he got into mixing music. He cycled through Taekwondo and MMA and Krav Maga as he got older (his parents only made it to two of his tournaments). His first car was a fucking Audi, which he drove until he got a motorcycle, which _they also paid for._ Yuri almost has half a mind to be jealous, but honestly, he's not. Otabek does whatever the fuck he wants to make up for the fact that he _can't,_ not really--his entire life has already been set up for him.

“Pretty sure that's the only reason they had me,” he'd joked to Yuri, who hadn't found it funny at all. “To take over the family business. Not a bad plan.”

Yuri doesn't remember much of his parents before they died, but he clearly recalls the taste of cherry tomatoes that his mother must’ve grown, and running through arches of rainbows from the sprinklers she set off just for him. He’s seen home videos of himself as a toddler, taking his first steps towards his father’s ecstatic voice, as grandpa watches from the doorway with watery eyes. Yuri speaks Russian, because his grandmother always told him stories and legends before bed, no matter how tired she was… and Yuri knows how to make blinis, borscht, zharkoye, and pirozhki, because grandpa's loving hands guided him through every recipe. Come to think of it, his katsudon isn't bad either. Yuuri’s gentle instructions made sure of that. Yuri taught himself tricks on a skateboard Victor got him for Christmas, and has a box full of art supplies Lilia and Yakov had given him for his birthday. He has spent entire weekends learning hip hop, break dancing, and how to shuffle with Mila using nothing but YouTube tutorials.

No one has ever, ever been anything but proud of him.

 

::

 

“I don’t get him sometimes,” Yuri vents to Victor one day, petulantly stroking Makkachin’s ears. Makkachin whines at the rough treatment, shaking his fur out, and Yuri stops. He reigns in his frustration. “Like. Nothing he ever does makes any sense.”

Victor shrugs. He’s met Otabek and knows enough about him second-hand to make his own conclusions.

“He’s coming from a different place than you are, Yurio.”

“That’s not my name,” Yuri snaps automatically, before resuming his petting. Makkachin’s curly tail wags in delight. “And yeah, but that’s not an excuse? Like, I get it, your parents weren’t around. So fucking what? Neither were mine! You don’t see me--” and Victor allows Yuri to continue ranting, listening with his head tilted thoughtfully to one side, as if from far away.

 

_No. You don’t get it._

 

Victor sighs internally, leaning back against the couch.

 

_You don’t get it at all._

 

Yuri doesn’t know what it’s like, to grow up with parents so distant they might as well not exist. Yuri doesn’t know what it’s like, to be left alone with too much money and free time, and almost no guidance on what to do with it all. Of course you’ll start drinking way too young. Of course you’ll start doing drugs when nice people at parties offer them to you. Of course you’ll start sleeping around, mistaking lust for love, deciding that lackluster company is better than coming home to an empty, beautiful house where no one is waiting up for you.

Victor gets it. And because he gets it, he tunes back in and says, with a startling amount of sympathy, “If you want, I can explain it to you.”

Yuri stops, mid-rant, noticing the change in Victor’s normally placid demeanor. “... Okay?”

So Victor does. Yuri listens. And afterwards, he gets this _look_ on his face that Victor only sees in context of Nikolai or Yuri’s dead parents.

One of the reasons he and Yuri are so close, even for cousins, is because of Yuri’s precociousness--his surprising capacity for maturity at times, and his uncanny ability to read people. Yuri is so smart that Victor almost forgets his lack of experience, but in moments like these, he’s reminded. That Yuri is still just a teenager; and a very loved one, at that.

For Otabek and Victor, there are no grandfathers with surprise piroshkis baked with them in mind. No older cousins with kind-hearted boyfriends, willing to open their apartment at a moment’s notice. No older role models, there to encourage their dreams with honey-paneled ballet studios and ice rinks that felt like home.

“Oh,” Yuri manages softly. They both sit there absorbing the conversation, until Yuuri comes home, with a jangle of keys and a lilting “ _Tadaima!_ ” as he takes his shoes off.

“We’re in the living room,” Victor calls, without taking his eyes from Yuri. He only breaks his gaze when Yuuri kisses the top of his head.

Victor would never wish his or Otabek’s upbringing on anyone. _But there’s hope_ , he thinks, watching Yuuri put the groceries away in their shared kitchen.

“It doesn’t always have to be like that,” Victor says, and Yuri startles, looking back at him. “I’m glad he has you.”

 

::

 

Otabek’s aware enough to know that Yuri’s grandpa’s open dinner invitations are more like covert attempts at adoption. He seems convinced that Otabek is some rich unloved orphan (which honestly, isn't too far off). Otabek has no problem eating out, but a home-cooked meal? At a table with conversation? He doesn’t get that a lot.

The first few times he’s incredibly awkward, using his best manners and never speaking unless spoken to. Nikolai gets rid of that real fast, with his inquisitive nature and booming laughter, and Otabek begins to feel cautiously happy after a few meals pass by like this.

Nikolai likes him when he realizes that Otabek speaks a little conversational Russian (even though it’s rusty). Yuri is surprised and goes very soft, which makes Otabek feel indescribably warm inside.

“Impressive that you can speak all these languages _and_ Kazakh,” Nikolai approves. Otabek’s gaze slides down to the tablecloth.

“I… uh. I don’t. Speak Kazakh.”

He never realized that it _bothered_ him before. He’s not in touch with his heritage at all, to the point he knows more about other people’s languages than his own. He’s surprised at Nikolai’s gruff sympathy.

“Your parents weren’t home much, yes?” Otabek nods. “Well, then how _could_ you know? That was their job, not yours.”

Otabek lets out the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. Nikolai’s words release a weight somewhere inside of him; Otabek didn’t know how much he’s needed to hear this until it was said.

 

::

 

They settle into a routine,  doing dishes together after dinner so Nikolai can watch his soap operas in peace. Then they'll migrate to Yuri's bedroom, where Beka will spread out his notes and laptop on the rug as Yuri occupies the bed. It’s completely boring and normal and somehow perfect. When Yuri is done pretending he's productive and Otabek can't focus on his online labs any longer, they’ll watch Netflix, or play video-games together, or go out to skate in the neighborhood. Nine times out of ten, they end up smoking out of an electric pen or vape Otabek brings along, and Yuri soon becomes really good at smoke rings.  

“I'm a terrible influence on you,” Otabek says, watching Yuri blow a thick cloud into the air.

“What are you talking about?” Yuri grins lazily. “I've never been so good at trigonometry since you've started coming over.”

“You're shit at math,” Otabek rolls his eyes, taking the pen from him. “I have no idea how you made it into an honors course.”

“Me neither, Beka. Me neither.” Yuri eyes the concrete, then offers, “Teach you how to dance if you teach me how to fight?”

Otabek raises an eyebrow, taking a deep inhale. “You first.”

“Age before beauty, old man.” Yuri’s started doing that thing Otabek does where he smiles with his eyes instead of his mouth, and watches as Otabek mirrors it back at him. Otabek blows the smoke out in his direction. 

“Ever heard of ‘Talk shit, get hit?’”

“If you insist.”

 

::

 

Yuri shows him how to shuffle, which Otabek gets the hang of pretty fast. Break dancing is a little harder for him, but he has the upper body strength and core for it. Hip hop is where he stumbles, figuratively and literally.

“Wow, for someone who’s constantly hoeing around, you have like… _no_ sexual presence when you dance. None.” Yuri is astonished. “How is that possible?”

Otabek is panting on the floor, evidently unable to provide any insight.

“I wish I could show Mila but she might actually cry. So much wasted potential.”

Otabek flips him off.

“Just saying.”

“Maybe I'm not cut out for hip hop,” Otabek concedes, put out.

“Beka I'm just kidding. We can work with this.”

 

::

 

In revenge, Otabek does not go easy on him _at all_ when it comes to self defense. To Otabek's undying annoyance though, Yuri is a natural at fighting, being much stronger than he looked.

“How the fuck do you kick so high?” Otabek asks in disbelief. “Are your joints made out of rubber or something?”

Yuri makes a show of doing standing splits to highlight his flexibility. “Years of suffering in ballet lessons with Lilia,” he says smugly. “Suck it, bitch.”

“You know, your eyes scream ‘thinly veiled trauma’,” Otabek observes honestly. “But your smile says ‘it was all worth it’. Don't know which to believe.”

Yuri’s smile gets wider. “Nothing gets past you, does it, Altin?”

 

::

 

They trade other skills.

Otabek shows him how to remix songs, but it turns out to be so damn complicated that Yuri all but gives up. He doesn't have Beka's ear for music, has no aptitude for what sounds good and what's just a mangling of notes. Mash-ups are even more of a failure, with Yuri having no idea how combine both songs in a way that didn't sound entirely boring and predictable.

Yuri teaches Otabek how to cook. It goes over about as well as anyone expects it to.

“Why did you put the shells in _with_ the eggs?” Yuri asks in horror. Otabek blinks.

“Was I not supposed to?”

“Beka, you're 20 years old. HOW?”

“I hope you know I've eaten out or had instant ramen for every meal since I lived on my own.”

Yuri is in _pain_. “So literally no one ever taught you not to.”

“Nope.”

“Fantastic. Spoiled-ass rich kids,” Yuri mutters under his breath. Otabek drops another egg shell in the batter on purpose this time, and Yuri chases him around the kitchen with a wooden spoon, before throwing a dish towel at him and laughing.

 

::

 

Nikolai had taught Yuri how to make pirozhki for two reasons. The first of which was to pass on his heritage. But the second…

Nikolai watches from the doorway, as his grandson teaches Otabek, and sees history repeating itself; Elena playfully blowing flour off her hands into his face, Nikolai fitting his arms around her as they kneaded the dough. Nothing tasted so sweet as memories with her in them, warm as steam escaping from a freshly broken crust.

That’s how he knew.

And that’s how he hopes Yuri will know too; the weightless feeling of teaching and learning together and making mistakes. Of loving the end result anyways.

He sees the way Otabek looks at his grandson, and is startled to realize that Otabek’s never been in love before either, and _god_ they’re both so young.

Nikolai is equal parts excited and nostalgic. He wishes Elena could’ve been here to see this. He is certain she would’ve loved him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my two most cherished headcanons are that Nikolai is an accepting, non-homophobic grandfather and that Yuri knows how to get dooooown 
> 
> Elena was Yuri's late grandmother, who also started off as Nikolai's best friend before they got married (GOALS)


	4. (so lovable) but you're just trouble

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> speaking as someone who frequently finds herself balancing between best friends...  
> i gotta thank mine for being so patient  
> Mila puts up with a lot for Yuri

* * *

  

Yuri knows that Mila doesn't exactly... like Otabek.

More precisely, she didn't _dislike_ him. But she didn't make efforts to ask after or get to know him better either. It's not even like him and JJ, where originally he was put off by JJ's exuberant _Canadian-ness_ and afterwards started to warm up to him. He just thinks Mila and Otabek don't exactly click, and so he leaves it alone. Yuri is fine with hanging with them both one on one. 

It's just that, with Otabek, it's hard not to spend most of his time with him since they both live so close. He feels guilty for seeing him more, so he tries to compensate by making his time with Mila count. It's the best he can do, and he hopes that it works.

 

::

 

What Yuri doesn't know is that Mila doesn't have a problem with Otabek. As a person.

The problem is that Mila has dated too many boys like him before. She can sense (even without Yuri telling her) that Otabek was all kinds of fucked up, and it's not cute or fun, being around someone like that. Mila still has scars from too many boys with gorgeous eyes and minefield pasts, and when Yuri starts looking softly into the distance whenever he talks about him, all she thinks is _Not you too_.

 

::

 

Yuri looks to her like the older sister who knows everything, and to be fair, she does know what to say and do most of the time. But honestly, when he starts asking her for advice about Otabek… she's never sure what to say. Just because they both dated around a lot, didn’t mean they did it for the same reasons.

Mila did it because her parents were high school sweethearts who had her too young and made it work against all the odds. She was a hopeless romantic, always looking for what they had, and just happened to deal with a lot of shit along the way.

Mila doesn’t know Otabek well enough to know why he does it. Maybe it was easier to find sex than it was to find love. Maybe he never learned how to say no, or he just kept saying yes to the wrong people. All she tells Yuri when he asks is, “Making mistakes doesn’t matter as much as learning from them, hon'. I just don’t think he learns.”

Yuri groans in frustration. “But it’s so _obvious._ Can’t he just…?”

Mila sighs tiredly. “Knowing better doesn’t always stop us from doing it anyways.” Mila gets it, so she’s sympathetic and patient… until Otabek’s problems start overshadowing her own.

 

::

 

“Hey Yuri,” Mila coughs. “Sorry, I was napping. You called?”

“Yeah, sorry I woke you up. Couldn’t get a hold of you over text. Uhm… Shit. I might... Beka just had a really bad fight with Andrei.”

“How is that related? Wait.” Mila sits up. “You’re still over there? I thought you already were on your way?”

“I was, but… He’s not exactly… I feel bad leaving right now.” Honestly, what is she supposed to say to that? “I'll text you when I'm free, but if it gets too late, maybe we can watch it on Thursday?”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” she says dully. “Hope he feels better soon.”

“I promise I’ll make this up to you. Grandpa made some really good borsht, I’ll bring it over after class tomorrow, okay?”

“Thanks Yuri. Talk to you later.”

 

::

 

A few weeks later and Mila opens the door to Yuri, panting with his hands on his knees. His skateboard is propped by the door, and he looks like he threw on the first half-decent thing he could find.

“Hey... Sorry… I'm late. Phone died.”

“Is everything okay?” She asks in concern.

“What? Oh,” Yuri looks sheepishly to the ground, trying to discover his long-dead tact. “Beka was… kinda having a panic attack.” Mila stays quiet. “… ugh, I won't get into it. You look good, you ready to go?”

“I’ve been ready since I texted you. I told everyone to just go in without us.”

“Oh. Shit, how long have you been waiting?”

Mila just closes the door and fishes her keys out. “It’s fine. Is he okay now?”

“Yeah, he’s fine now.” Yuri looks up at her, contrite for the first time she can remember. “Dessert’s on me?”

“I don’t think that place will still be open when we finish eating,” Mila says carefully. Yuri looks panicked, so she takes pity. “But I’m always down for ice cream?”

“Done.”

Mila speeds them there in record time, and by the time they get out of the car, they’re back to teasing and shoving at each other. Georgi got the rest of their intramural dance team seated just minutes ago, and Mila thanks god that it had been a long wait. They celebrate their second regional victory, singing Happy Birthday to Georgi’s girlfriend because she'd missed it during hell week, and afterwards... Yuri gets her a double scoop of raspberry sorbet AND mint chocolate chip. Mila laughs, Yuri steals bites of her waffle cone, and all is forgiven.

 

::

 

… until a month later. Yuri picks up on the third ring. “Yuri, are you on your way yet? Doors open at 7!”

“Oh fuck. The concert’s TONIGHT?”

Mila almost throws her phone. “Are you _SERIOUS_? Can you not go? We’ve been planning this for ages!”

“FUCK. No, I can still make it! Shit, I’m sorry, just let me tell Beka I gotta head out soon.”

She takes a deep breath through her nose. “Do you need me to pick you up?”

“No, it's fine, he can give me a ride. We're around the area anyways, it's a long story… Doors open in an hour right? I'll see you there?”

 

::

 

It's honestly hard not to be resentful.  She listens to stories of the people he dates, the panic attacks he hides, the dreams he shoves down under his parent's expectations and expensive drugs and thinks _Those are your problems, not Yuri's._ Mila is nothing if not on top of her shit, and it’s amazing _how much it affects her own life_ when Otabek doesn’t have his together. Yuri is fundamentally a good friend, and Mila knows it, but that's a curse as much as it's a blessing sometimes. Especially in this case.

 

::

 

Sometimes Mila forgets that Yuri can be a really good friend.

"What are you doing here?" Mila sniffles, opening her front door. Yuri lowers his over-laden backpack and props his skateboard against the doorjamb. "I thought you were with Otabek."

Yuri shrugs. "He'll be fine. This last fight isn't anything new." He looks at her awkwardly, before opening one arm and muttering "C'mere."

Mila resists for a minute, but then remembers the phone call, and how quickly things were over between them, and she starts crying all over again. "God, it's all my fault isn't it? I should've tried harder..."

"No it's not," Yuri says, clutching her tightly. He's her height now, and that's different, but the comforting scent of his hoodie and shampoo are the same. So's the hug. "Mila, it wasn't your fault. Long distance is just really hard, okay?"

"I should've tried harder, I should've..."

"It's not your fault." He rarely gets this soft. Mila's missed hearing that tone of voice.

"We were doing just fine, I don't know what happened..."

"Shh. I know. I brought you something, wanna put it in the fridge or eat it right now?"

"Is it ice cream?"

"I mean, they ran out so I had to make do."

Mila opens the zipper and sees two tubs of this gourmet organic gelato that she never touches because it's just too damn expensive and. Fuck. He got both her favorite flavors.

"Don't start crying again," Yuri says in a panic, as Mila squeezes the life out of him.

Mila honestly didn't expect him to pick her over Otabek. But maybe it wasn't about playing favorites. Maybe this was just Yuri doing his best.

 

::

 

To be fair, Mila can see why Yuri likes Otabek so much. 

She's seen, with her own two eyes, just how baffling _good_ Otabek is to him.

With Yuri, he’s like the best version of himself, so healthy and supportive that Mila can’t find it in herself to be mad. It's hard to believe this is the same person whose life is such a dumpster fire, when he’s been risking his own safety teaching Yuri how to drive, in lieu of Nikolai. 

Mila watches him now, as he's correcting Yuri's chemistry assignment, tired but intent. They're all studying together, though Mila has been absently scrolling through Facebook and Tumblr for the last hour, ignoring the seven tabs worth of research articles in the second window. She's 3200 words into her paper, close enough.

"Looks good, don't forget to convert your final answer though. You used milligrams."

"Oh shit, thanks." Yuri knots his brows together and sighs, accepting the paper Otabek offers him. "I don't know how you do this all the time for your major. This is hard."

Otabek shrugs. Mila notices Yuri reach for his wings, before realizing his own plate is empty. He stares over at Otabek, who is innocently reading his notes with a highlighter in his mouth. 

"Did he steal my last bite?" Yuri imperiously asks Mila. "AGAIN?" 

"You're a growing boy," Otabek excuses mildly. "Consider it sabotage."  

"You _are_ getting too tall," Mila agrees, clicking on a YouTube link.

"That's a nice way of saying that you're both SHORT."

"5'8" is literally the average height for men." 

"Wanna bet?"

Mila sips ruefully at her Italian cream soda, amused and staying out of it. She might not get Otabek, but she can accept him. So she deals.

She deals with listening to how pretty Otabek’s eyes are and how screamingly gay Yuri is for them. She deals with occasionally coming in second, because she knows friendship is forever, and Yuri’s never been in love. And she hopes.

She hopes she’s wrong, and that Yuri is right.

Maybe this will turn out differently than her past experiences.


	5. you're not the only one

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for anyone who's ever had to deal with their friend's shitty exes 
> 
> this one goes out to you

* * *

 

Of all the people Otabek’s dated, Yuri thinks he’s liked maybe a whopping total of two of them.

Two. In the almost _three years_ they’ve been friends.

Tanya was a needy nightmare even before she cheated on Beka, and so he tries not to think about her too much. There was Sinead, who Yuri actually thought was going to work out, until he realized she liked Otabek way more than Otabek liked her, and he probably didn’t deserve the constant effort she put in. Carmen was nice, but she was a flirt; even going so far as hitting on _JJ_ in front of Otabek, so they fizzled out fast. Kenji was okay, until Yuri finally met him in person and realized he _couldn’t keep his fucking hands off Beka._ Literally, Yuri was sitting across the table from them one time when Kenji leaned over and _bit Otabek’s shoulder._ In broad daylight. A foot and a half from his best friend’s face.

Yuri awkwardly turned away, sipping his drink, and Otabek shouldered him off with a _look._ Kenji either didn’t get the hint, or didn’t care, because he kept rubbing Otabek’s knee under the table or trying to play footsie with him (except that was YURI'Sfoot, he didn’t regret kicking him back at all).

They didn’t last long after that (thank god).

Andrei is the on-again-off-again relationship that Yuri has extremely mixed feelings about. On the one hand, the guy is probably the best Otabek’s dated (not that it was exactly hard). He's this tattoo artist who's two years older than Beka, with a stable income, and actual people skills. He did romantic things for Otabek every once in a blue moon, like taking him out to surprise concerts and randomly showing up with flowers "just because". Which was nice. The unfortunate part was that it was one of those passionate relationships where they _fought all the fucking time_ and then fucked _and then fought again_ and then had more make-up sex and never dealt with the actual issue. Yuri wants to blame it all on Andrei, except he’s read the text messages Otabek’s shown him and... YIKES.

“Beka, it’s been three days.” Yuri says in awe as the familiar ring-tone starts up again. “At least pick up the phone.”

“No,” Otabek says, calmly throttling the controller. He loses. “I don’t want to deal with that right now.” It stops ringing.

He used to hide his relationship problems from Yuri, but as they got closer and Yuri got older... Yuri came to realize that as much as he loved Otabek, he couldn’t just _ignore_ it.

As a best friend, Yuri is the most important person in Otabek’s life. And yeah, he gets to deal with the aftermath, when Otabek’s silent and dry-eyed or shaking and a wreck. But he’s never dealt with Otabek pulling away from him before, just because he was hurt. He’s never seen Otabek _jealous_ or really, truly insecure for reasons both real and imaginary. He’s never had to constantly defend or justify his place in Otabek’s life, and it’s bewildering and exhausting to think about how _different_ Otabek is as a boyfriend, compared to how perfect he is as a best friend. 

 

::

 

JJ never tells Yuri that they hooked up before.

That they were seventeen and it was Otabek's first time with a guy and he’d glanced at JJ after a few beers without looking away. How JJ found them licking into each other's mouths later that night and it'd felt like everywhere they touched was tingling; like JJ’s atoms were being scrambled and reassembled. Because  _fuck_ Otabek was a good kisser.

He doesn't tell Yuri about how Otabek had looked up at him like he trusted him, unbuttoning JJ’s jeans before pulling him in by the belt loops. How careful and attentive JJ had been, making sure Otabek was responsive to every touch, eyes half lowered and sighing. How they'd woken up the next morning and JJ had nuzzled into the hollow of his throat, happy and warm.

And slowly realized that Otabek didn't look at him quite that way, even though he'd curled into him all the same. He looked at JJ like he was safe and familiar and knew what he was doing. And while JJ may have had all kinds of experience in sucking dick without catching feelings, he had exactly zero experience when it came to half-lidded brown eyes, and awesome remixes on Soundcloud, and comfortably stealing curly fries when Otabek wasn't looking.

They had settled into friends with benefits without it ever turning into anything else, which was fine, because the romance wore off and JJ got over it.

It doesn't change the fact JJ'd probably still murder anyone who hurt him. Doesn't change the fact JJ still thoroughly enjoys being the go-to for every house party and club and bar that Otabek DJ’s at. He's played Fake Boyfriend or Flirtatious Decoy more times than worth mentioning, even though it’s always a challenge to make sure whoever Otabek goes home with isn’t sketchy. He stops Otabek from getting on the bike if he’s not sober, drives him home, and drags him out for hangover-curing burritos the next morning when they go to pick his bike up.

They stay strong friends because JJ will always love Otabek in some way; falling for him was the easy part. JJ had always known that. Staying with him was the hard part.

Gotta love the guy, but the ability to communicate about feelings is kind of important to JJ in a potential partner, as is the ability not to shut down or constantly self medicate. 

That's why he's surprised, when he sees the way Otabek is around Yuri. Whatever it is about their dynamic, it's different than any JJ’s ever seen Otabek in, and he's grateful. Maybe Yuri has a shot there after all.

 

::

 

“What’s it like to have anxiety?” Yuri asks JJ one day. JJ pauses, before glancing over. Yuri is polishing off the last slice of pizza between them, picking at the pepperoni slice before he nibbles at it. He seems determined to be casual, but there’s a self-conscious hunch to his shoulders, like he knows maybe this could be taken the wrong way. JJ chuckles.

“It’s different for every person, if that’s what you’re asking.” Yuri flushes, but he keeps listening. JJ can’t really give much insight on Otabek’s panic attacks, but he can give at least somewhat of an overview. “I don’t know. For me, it’s pretty low-level and constant. I learned to manage it way better as I got older, but I used to be like… borderline overcompensating. I wasn’t very confident.”

“The fuck? _You?_ Not confident?” Yuri stares. “In what world?”

JJ’s booming laughter shakes the table and draws a few eyes to them. Yuri’s become an expert at ignoring the attention JJ draws in without even thinking. He just bites at the crust, and JJ wipes a tear from his eye.

“Oh _man_ , kitten. I mean, I basically was super anxious about how I came off to other people all the time. Always worried about how I looked, and if I was being too… loud or too much or not fun enough.” JJ grins, even though Yuri’s looking at him with wide eyes. “I’d shake my leg a lot, or fidget, and had a hard time letting silences just… sit there. I always felt like I wasn’t good enough.”

“Wow.” Yuri sets his pizza down. He looks at him a little differently, but JJ supposes that’s the point. JJ is good at keeping the mask on. People don’t know, because he doesn’t want them to know. “That’s… Really rough. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” JJ winks, navy-blue eyes twinkling. “Like I said, it never really goes away. But I’ve gotten better at dealing with it.”

“How does Isabella help you with it?” Ahh. Yuri looks curious, but also intent on learning.

“She’s patient. Sometimes we have the same fights over and over, but she’ll always take each one seriously and like… I don’t know. Take the time to reassure me, even if I should already know by this point.” JJ leans his face on his hands, playing with his straw. “She tells me she loves me a lot. And that I’m always good enough for her, even when I fuck up. I try my best not to let her down, but there’s never really any pressure, yanno? It’s all coming from me, and even if I do, she forgives me.”

“So that’s why you put a ring on it.”

“As fast as I fucking could,” JJ agrees happily, as Yuri rolls his eyes. He sips dreamily on his water. He loves Isabella.

 

::

 

“I don’t know if I’m a good friend sometimes,” Yuri admits, guiltily. Yuuri blinks, having been about to ask Yuri which direction the dog park was and if he still had the directions pulled up. Yuuri removes his glasses and polishes them on his shirt to buy himself some more time to Properly Adult.

“That’s a pretty broad statement... What makes you say that?”

Yuri sighs, tugging at Makkachin’s leash to keep him from getting to close to the street. “I’m not very patient, sometimes.”

“With who?”

“Otabek.”

“Ahh.” 

“Yeah. Just. He… frustrates me. He doesn’t fucking learn. And I hate that I’m not more patient because I know it’s not easy for him, considering his history and all that, but… he makes such shitty decisions sometimes, and I just wish he could be--” Yuri cuts himself off from his rush of emotion, cheeks puffing from the words he stopped himself from saying.

“He could be what, Yurio?”

“... Normal,” Yuri says in a small voice, and Makkachin sniffs at him curiously, noticing his change in demeanor. “I wish he could just deal with things like a normal person… Fuck, he _worries_ me.”

Yuuri considers him, before taking Makkachin’s leash and picking a new direction to walk. He'll just guess. It can't be that far. “I don’t think that makes you a bad friend.”

“You sure?” Yuri hardly ever asks for reassurance, but Yuuri senses it now. He chooses his words carefully, pulling his peacoat against the windy afternoon.

“Yeah. You’re very patient with him actually. I’d be worried too.” Yuuri loves them both dearly, but he just cannot _understand_ Otabek’s coping mechanisms either. Yuuri comes from the most stable, loving family imaginable, and he has a hard time relating to Otabek’s wildness and the toxic people he allows into his life. He normally lets Victor handle this, only giving Yuri practical advice instead of any real insight.

“But... You’re supposed to accept your friends, aren’t you?” Yuuri watches him knit his brows in worry and smiles thoughtfully. 

“Well, yes. Would Otabek still be Otabek if he behaved exactly how you wish he’d behave?”

Yuri opens his mouth to argue and looks stumped. “... No, I guess not.”

“There, you’ve accepted it.” Yuuri smirks as Yuri hip-checks him. “I’m sure you get frustrated a lot sometimes, but at the end of the day, you still seem to try hard and do your best to be there for him. That’s what best friends are supposed to do. So you’re fine.”

Yuuri is startled by the hug that he receives. He can name on ONE hand the number of times Yuri’s initiated any physical contact. “... Thanks, Katsudon. You can be really smart sometimes.”

Yuuri squeezes him back tightly, Makkachin barking and bumping into their legs. “Any time.”

The silence lasts, companionable and warm, before Yuri breaks it.

"You have no idea where we are, do you?" 

"Nope, not a clue." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> things that sustain me:  
> \- JJBek  
> \- JJ as The Fuckboy Success Story™ who accidentally stumbled into a healthy relationship  
> \- Yuuri and Yuri's friendship  
> \- platonic exes


	6. they were right

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: explicit descriptions of drug overdose

Yuri is not expecting the phone call to wake him up when it’s still pitch black in his room. Fuck, what time was it? He fumbles for the phone on his nightstand, before swiping open the still ringing call.

“H’llo?” he answers blearily.

“Yuri?” The vaguely familiar masculine voice is tugging at his brain. “It’s JJ. Hey, uhm, sorry to bother you so late...”

“It’s fine,” Yuri says automatically, though some vague alarm bells were sounding through the fog of his awareness. JJ doesn’t call him. Especially not at night. “What’s going on?”

“It’s Beka.” Yuri fully wakes up at that.

“What’s wrong?”

“He’s… Oh shit, hold up.” He hears fumbling on the other end, as well as a frantic shushing as JJ tries to comfort someone. There’s violent noises, like someone’s forcefully vomiting, and Yuri’s starting to get more and more freaked out.

“JJ--”

“He’s. Fuck. Look, I didn’t want to freak you out but Beka’s… I think he took something bad, he’s blacked out and won’t stop throwing up and--” Yuri’s blood turns to ice in his veins. He almost misses JJ’s next words. “--I’m taking him home, but I can’t stay with him all night. You live right next to him, do you think you coul--”

“Pick me up,” Yuri says, immediately pulling on a hoodie. JJ breathes a shaky sigh of relief.

“Text me your address, I’ll be there soon.” He hangs up.

Yuri is waiting in his driveway when the lights of an unfamiliar car pulls up. He prays JJ has enough sense not to wake up his grandpa. Luckily, JJ seems competent enough to dim his lights and gently open his door, despite the urgency in his movements. Yuri gets into the backseat with Otabek, who’s covered by his own leather jacket. He’s so limp and unmoving that Yuri feels fear like a punch through his stomach. Yuri cradles Otabek’s head in his lap, taking the trashbag from his weak fingers. Fuck.

“Why aren’t we going to the hospital?” Yuri asks frantically as JJ pulls away. JJ’s mouth tightens, and he looks so uncharacteristically serious.

“I have a testing kit with me,” JJ says, as if that’s supposed to be an answer. “I took the pills off his boyfriend, I wanted to make sur--”

“ _Andrei_ fucking gave this to him?” Otabek’s unconscious head is lolling into his stomach right now. Yuri is going to rip that fucker limb from limb. “Where is he? _Why isn’t he here with him?”_

JJ doesn’t answer. Yuri bites his tongue and just holds Otabek still through the turns. They don’t speak again until JJ parks, and him and Yuri both try to get Otabek up the stairs. JJ tries to carry him, but Otabek’s eyes shoot open and he moans like he doesn’t know where he is. Yuri’s never heard Otabek sound scared before, breathing too fast and panicky. Otabek won’t stop shaking, and Yuri just tries to calm him down first.

JJ grabs the keys from Otabek’s pocket and runs up first to open the doors. He bolts down, and starts to support Otabek out of the car, letting him lean heavily on his shoulder. Otabek takes a few staggering steps forward. Yuri takes his other side.

Progress up the stairs is slow. Otabek slips at one point and Yuri plants himself firmly between him and the railing to make up for it. They get into his apartment and Otabek literally just falls onto the couch.

Yuri mechanically busies himself with grabbing more trashbags and the comforter from Otabek’s room, as JJ heads straight into the kitchen and pulls a small baggie out of his pocket, before carefully following those with a kit and rubber gloves out of his backpack. He flips all the lights on and crushes the pills onto a clean plate, as Yuri tries to coax Otabek awake to drink some water. Otabek whines wordlessly, before dry heaving again, and that sound is so far from how he usually is that Yuri wants to cry.

“Fuck,” JJ whispers angrily. He’s looking at the test strip, comparing the rapidly blooming colors to the corresponding key on the back of the kit. “Fuck, his pills were cut with meth.” JJ lists off a few other strings of chemicals as he drops more solution, but Yuri knows none of them. “Jesus Christ, I’m going to murder him.”

“We need to take him to a hospital,” Yuri says, but JJ shakes his head. _“Why not? What the fuck is wrong with you, he’s not okay--”_

“Otabek’s parents can’t find out,” JJ mumbles, though he sounds conflicted himself. “Otabek would kill me if he had any of this on record.”

“Who CARES! He shouldn’t have been fucking taking these in the first place!”

“Look…” JJ takes a shaky breath, running a hand through his hair. Some of his usual confidence is coming back, and for once, Yuri is glad to hear it. “Let me research this. Give me ten minutes, and if it looks like it’s way beyond anything we can handle, we’ll go.”

That sounds like a horrible idea, but Yuri is fucking seventeen and in way over his head. He has a flash of inspiration.

“I'm calling Victor," Yuri says, wrestling Otabek out of his jacket.

"Your _cousin_?"

"Trust me!"

Otabek is sweating and burning up, so Yuri gets a cold washcloth from the restroom as JJ keeps trying to coax him to drink more water. Once he does, JJ furiously swipes up medical articles on his phone, and Yuri shakingly dials Victor, putting it on speaker.

Victor picks up on the fifth ring, and considering it’s almost morning, that’s a minor miracle. “Yurio...? Is something wrong?”

“Otabek overdosed on something, he doesn’t want to go to a hospital,” Yuri blurts out. “Please don’t tell Yuuri.”

“Wait, WHAT?” He hears rustling as Victor wakes up. “Slow down. What did he take? And how much?”

JJ takes over to describe it and they spend the next hour tensely on the phone with Victor. On the one hand, Yuri silently thanks god that Victor knows what to do, but on the other, he knows Victor is speaking from experience. The thought he’s been through this himself is horrifying.

“It looks like his body is taking care of it by throwing most of it up… Keep getting him to drink water, he’s dehydrated, especially with how much he’s losing.” JJ starts checking things like Otabek’s pulse and temperature and testing his responsiveness. Otabek is conscious enough to answer all his questions, remembers his name and key facts and is able to move his body when prompted.

“He didn’t take as much as he normally does, thank god,” JJ mutters.

“So it should start wearing off by now,” Victor calculates. “It’s been almost three hours since he ingested it, keep an eye on the clock for me.”

And the night goes by like that, with Yuri tense and pale and terrified, and JJ holding himself together by the threads. Eventually, Otabek’s shivering and dry heaving goes away. He’s sleeping because he’s tired, instead of straight up being unconscious.

“Okay… Okay.” JJ shakily drops the phone when Victor deems Otabek stable, and puts his face in his hands, taking deep breaths. Yuri holds Otabek's head in his lap, and breathes a sigh of relief as he sinks into the couch. It’s almost four in the morning. JJ looks terrible, curled up on the floor next to the couch.  

“Has this ever happened before?” Yuri asks quietly.

“No. Never. Otabek’s done this enough to know his own limits.”

“Andrei?” Yuri is flat and furious. JJ glares into the carpet.

“He's useless. He just kept trying to dance with Beka. I had to pull him off when I realized something was wrong.” Yuri’s never seen JJ cold before, but tonight’s been full of nightmarish firsts. “He saw that I was taking care of Beka and just backed off. I think he was still dancing when we left.”

The silence following that statement is incredulous.

When Otabek finally opens his eyes, it’s dawn. JJ had to leave a while ago, at Yuri’s urging that he get some sleep, and Yuri had texted his grandpa a fake and cheery _went out for a run early and going to Mila’s after, i love you._ He’s going to get hell for not waking his grandpa up beforehand, but he’ll deal with that when it comes.

“Hey,” Otabek whispers hoarsely, curled up on his side.

“Hey,” Yuri answers emptily. “How are you feeling?”

“Like shit.” Otabek pulls the blanket closer. “What happened?”

“You just…” The details are too fresh and make him shaky so Yuri edits it. “You had bad pills. Really bad pills. We almost took you to the hospital. JJ just left.”

“Fuck, Yura…” Otabek grimaces, squeezing his eyes shut. His voice is like sandpaper. “I’m so fucking sorry. You shouldn’t have had to...”

“Why didn’t you test them?” It just slips out. Yuri hadn’t wanted to attack him right as he woke up, but he couldn’t help it. “That wasn’t just MDMA, there was all sorts of shit cut into it."

“They were Andrei’s,” Otabek answers quietly, opening his eyes to the ceiling.

"JJ found fucking  _meth_.”

“... I trusted him.”

Silence. Yuri has never hated a person so much.

“... Where is he?” Otabek sounds confused and Yuri doesn’t look away.

“I don’t know. It was JJ who took you home. He and I have been taking care of you all night.”

Otabek is silent. His lips press together, chapped and upset. Yuri should not still find him beautiful, but he does. He’s so angry.

“I see,” Otabek says at last, heavily. “I… Thank you, Yura.”

“Thank JJ, honestly. And Victor, he told us what to do.”

“I will… Shit. I'm so sorry. For putting you all through that. I must’ve scared you.”

“It’s not like you did it on purpose.” Yuri says grudgingly, before admitting, “Beka, I hate him.” They don’t need to specify who. “Please don’t tell me you’re going to stay with him.”

“Don’t worry,” Otabek answers hollowly. “Hand me my phone?”

Otabek pulls up Andrei’s contact once Yuri does, and Yuri watches him shakily type out a short text. He reads it before Otabek blocks the number.

 

_don’t call me. it’s over._

 

Thank god.

“How long was I out for?”

“Technically, two hours since you fell asleep.”

“You should sleep too. You haven’t all night.”

Yuri hesitates. Otabek sounds like his normal self, but Victor had warned him about the come-down. It was going to be harsh. “I don’t think I should.”

“I’ll be fine. I’ll go back to sleep too,” he promises. Yuri is exhausted so he listens.

“Think you have it in you to move back to your bed?”

“Yeah.”

That turns out to be a terrible idea, as Otabek is so woozy he more leans on Yuri than anything. But they make it and Yuri gathers all the pillows and blankets and puts the waste basket next to him just in case. He passes out next to Otabek, clothes on, with the promise Beka will wake him up if he needed anything.


	7. crash and burn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry that i'm like this

Yuri wakes up to Otabek shaking next to him and all he thinks is “not again”.

But when he rolls over, it’s not to Otabek throwing up like he was before. Otabek’s faced away, shoulders shaking, and Yuri is confused at the erratic, almost inaudible inhales until he he realizes...

He’s crying. 

Yuri's brain almost stops working.

Otabek never cries. Not even during his panic attacks, when Otabek literally tells Yuri he feels like he’s dying, heart jackhammering and unable to breathe. 

Otabek goes absolutely, soundlessly still when he feels the bed creak, indicating that Yuri’s awake.

Yuri wonders if it’s the come-down, or if it’s Andrei, or some combination of things hitting him like a freight train. It doesn’t matter, in the end. Yuri hesitantly reaches one hand out anyways, coming to a rest on Otabek’s shoulder. Otabek doesn’t shake his hand off, so Yuri asks, very quietly, “Is this okay?”

Otabek stays faced away, but when he nods, Yuri wraps an arm over him and buries his face between Otabek’s shoulder blades. He holds him like that. Yuri doesn’t try to think of anything to say. He just hugs him, until Otabek buries his face into the pillow and mumbles, “Sorry. I was hoping you wouldn’t have to see this.”

“Shut up,” Yuri says, rubbing his nose into the fabric of Otabek’s shirt. “Don’t apologize.”

“... I’m a mess,” Otabek laughs bitterly, after a long silence. “God. This isn’t even your problem. You shouldn’t even be here.” Yuri knows he doesn’t mean it the way it came off, that Otabek must still be pretty out of it if he’s this tactless, so he doesn’t say anything.

“What’s wrong?” Yuri asks softly. Otabek is wordless again, but his silence only worries Yuri more. “Beka? You’re freaking me out. Do you want to talk about it?”

“Just a nightmare,” Otabek deems safe to say, but Yuri can tell that it’s only half the truth.

“Go on?”

“I… don’t really want to talk about it, Yura.”

“Beka.” Yuri knows pushing isn’t the best idea, that it might only shut Otabek down even more, but he’s so _tired_ of walking on eggshells. He wants answers, dammit. “Beka, I hate to pull this card, but _stop shutting me out._ I’m… God, I’m fucking _scared,_ okay? I’m scared and I’ve never seen you like this, and I don’t know what to do, so just _tell me_ so I can do something about it.”  

He doesn’t expect it to work. Of course it doesn’t work. Of course Otabek goes quiet again, and Yuri starts to pull away, until Otabek says, “It was a memory.”

Yuri goes still.

“I woke up and forgot it wasn’t real. But even when I realized I was awake, it didn’t matter.”

“Why not,” Yuri prods when Otabek stops talking for a long pause.

“I... don’t know how to explain it.” Yuri clings tighter, feeling Otabek's frustration. “I want to explain it but I can’t.”

“Try. I’m listening.”

“... I didn’t learn from my mistakes." Yuri’s heart catches. “It feels like I already made them, and now I’m going to keep making them forever, and it’s always going to be like this, and it’s all my fault.”

Yuri wants to say no, it wasn’t, when Otabek continues. “I can’t even blame the people, because I keep choosing them, and putting myself in positions where I let them hurt me.”

“Did Andrei _hurt_ you?” Yuri asks abruptly, immediately furious.

“It's not like that. He's never gotten physical.” Yuri is too smart to be reassured.

“Beka, just because it’s not physical, doesn’t mean it’s--”

“Yuri!” Otabek barks, and Yuri shuts up. “It’s not like that. It wasn’t like that with Andrei, okay?”

Something about Otabek’s choice in words makes Yuri’s blood run cold again.

“How would you know what it looks like?”

Otabek pulls away and it’s a bad sign, Yuri can already tell.

“Beka…”

Otabek isn’t looking at him, sitting at the edge of the bed. Yuri sits straight up, but allows Otabek to keep his bubble of personal space. He’s gripping the mattress, either for physical stability or emotionally anchoring himself, Yuri doesn’t know.

“Beka, how do you know what it looks like?”

Silence.

“Which one?” Yuri asks, numbly.

Otabek doesn’t answer, and that only fuels Yuri’s cold fury even more. “If any of them laid a hand on you, I swear to god--”

“No one’s ever hit me, calm down.”

“Then what did they _do_?”

“... Threaten to kill themselves,” Otabek says finally, like he’s remarking on the weather. Everything slows down. “Throw things against the wall. Tell me they loved me and how it was my fault they were doing this. Asked why I didn’t love them back.”

"Was it..." Tanya was his first guess.

"Sinead." The Nice One. The one Yuri had  _liked._

“You... never told me,” Yuri says, his words void of all emotion. The shock waves are still washing over him, and everything feels so, so cold. Otabek looks back at him at last, just a glance over his shoulder. Apologetic.

“I didn’t want you to know.”

“I’m your best friend,” Yuri seethes, all the emotions hitting him at once, like a flash flood he doesn't know how to stop. “Why would you think I didn’t want to know?”

“Yuri, you were sixteen, why would I--”

“Because I gave a shit about you?!" Yuri’s voice is getting increasingly louder, and he can’t _help it,_ even though he hates that he’s raising his voice at Otabek. "Because that’s what you _do_ when you care about someone? Listen to their problems even when you don’t want to hear it?”

He knows he’s handling the situation all wrong, but honestly, Yuri has no idea how to calmly react. He feels absolutely helpless, knowing that he was in Otabek's life at the time, and hadn't done _anything_.  

“BEKA, this has to stop, I'm sick of the people you keep dating. That shit isn't okay!”

“You think I _want_ it to always end up like this?” Otabek snaps back, and Yuri inexplicably finds himself getting angrier. No, he needs to calm down, this isn’t helping Beka. “You think I _plan_ on this shit happening? Like I go out seeking problems?”

“Honestly, from the way you go about things? YES! You might as well be!”

He sees the way Otabek flinches, how he snaps his gaze back to the wall. And great, now there’s open pain in his face that wasn’t there before, and  _goddamn it, fuck all of this,_ fuck this entire shitty day.

“I’m sorry,” Otabek says automatically, reflexively. Yuri gets so angry from hearing that he almost sees red. “I know it’s my fault. Please calm down.”

“Don’t _say_ shit like that if you don’t believe it!” Yuri is trying, he’s trying so hard to calm down, because he hates seeing Otabek like this, so avoidant and deflective and just saying things to get him to leave him alone. “Beka, it’s not your fault, it’s never been your fault.”

“I'm sorry.”

_“Don’t say that just to end the conversation--”_

“Yuri, I’m _sorry,_ what do you want me to say?”

“Stop apologizing!”

Everything stops. Otabek’s hands are cupping his jaw. The distance between them is all wrong, his touch and gaze too intimate, and Yuri sees every droplet spiking his eyelashes, every fine line cracking his dry lips. Yuri’s entire brain short-circuits before kicking back into overdrive. He breaks away and the look on Otabek’s face sends him scrambling to the edge of the bed.

“What the _fuck,_ ” Yuri chokes out. Otabek looks equally freaked out.

“I’m sorry. I…”

“Why did you just… What...”

“I panicked, Yura I’m sorry--”

“What the fuck do you mean you _panicked?"_

Otabek looks just as lost and vulnerable as when he woke up and Yuri… Yuri needs to get away from here. Holy shit.

“I’ve got to go,” Yuri says, grabbing his phone and his shoes from the foot of the bed. “I’ve got to…”

Got to what? Leave? When his best friend was weak and recovering and could barely walk? When he’d just bared his soul to Yuri _exactly_ like how he’d asked him to?

Yuri drops his shoes, but gets up anyways with a shuddering sigh, heading straight to the bathroom. He splashes cold water on his face, over and over, until he’s panting and staring into the mirror. “Calm down,” he mouths to his reflection. It stares back at him, wide-eyed and high strung. “This isn’t the time. This isn’t the place.”

Whatever they just went through last night was already too much. He can’t do much about Otabek’s emotional state, so he won’t focus on that for now. One fire at a time. He curses the fact that the restroom is attached to the bedroom; there’s no avoiding Otabek once he opens the door. He brushes his teeth with the spare toothbrush Otabek always leaves in the medicine cabinet for him, and feels a little bit better at being clean. He straightens himself up, before squaring his shoulders once he was fully calm.

Otabek is sitting with his head in his hands when Yuri opens the door, and looks up at the sound. He looks guilt stricken.

“Yura,” he rasps. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

“Do you do that a lot?” Yuri tries to make a joke out of it, to lighten the moment, but Otabek bites his lip and looks down to the floor again.

“Yes.” Oh. Yuri’s always joked about this, especially with JJ, laughing about how _I guess they can't fight while they're fucking._ It's a lot less funny seeing it in action.

“It's okay,” Yuri says, swallowing from nervousness. Otabek unconsciously mirrors the motion. “You didn't mean to, you’re still coming down from something, it's okay. Let me just… I'll get you some water and food, yeah? Do you feel like you can eat?”

“Yeah. I think so.”

“Okay,” Yuri answers. “I’ll be right back.”

Yuri gets all the way to the door when he hears Otabek mumble something.

“Come again?”

“When I... almost kissed you.”

Yuri mechanically turns to look at him.

“I'm sorry but… it's not like I haven't noticed we both feel something for each other?”

Yuri might as well have turned into granite. They were not having this conversation right now.

“You're good for me, Yura.”

And he could've just meant that as a thank you, just a statement of fact, but the way he _looks_ at Yuri. Like he's the answer to a question he's too afraid to ask and…

Yuri bites his lip, hard.

That's been exactly what Yuri’s wanted to hear their whole friendship, but _not like this._ Yeah, Yuri knows he's good for Otabek, but for the very first time, he considers that Otabek might not be good for _him_. And it's so surreal, finally realizing just how broken his best friend is.

“Thanks,” Yuri settles for in the end, taking the easy interpretation out. He leaves and gently closes the door.

 

::

 

Yuri makes him Earl Grey tea and some Korean instant ramen because that's all he can find in the kitchen. He tears open each packet, boils water, and leans over the counter as he waits for both to steep.

Otabek's words run through his brain on repeat and Yuri digs his palm into his eyes. He wonders what could’ve been done, even if he’d known. And he wonders... what would've happened. If Yuri hadn't stopped him, if he'd just let him keep going, if Otabek's chapped lips would've softened once Yuri ran his tongue over them...

Yuri drops the chopsticks he's holding.

No. Nope.

Honestly, Yuri would rather be anywhere but here right now. 

But Yuri loves him. And that's not what best friends do.

So he just picks out a clean pair of disposable chopsticks, gathers everything on one massive plate doubling as a platter, and goes back to Otabek’s room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> emotional/psychological abuse is statistically much, much more common than physical or sexual abuse (for any gender)
> 
> it's not okay, and it's never their fault.


	8. talk to me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> moment of truth

* * *

 

“Here,” Yuri says, gently setting everything down beside him. “Drink this, it's hot.”

“Thanks, Yura.”

The steam rises to cloud Otabek's features and he seems to be better after a few sips. He glances at Yuri as he twirls his noodles. “You didn't make yourself anything?”

Yuri shrugs. “Not hungry.” Which is half true--he isn't, not until he thinks about it, and there's enough else occupying his mind. At Otabek's guilty expression he just sighs and crosses his arms. Yuri's been leaning against the foot of the bed, not willing to be close to Otabek yet.

“I'm--”

“Don't.” Yuri cuts him off, sensing an apology again. He takes a deep breath, anxiously running a hand through his hair. “I've seen you sleep with other people to get over your feelings," Yuri says bluntly. "I don't want to be a rebound.”

It's like all the air leaves the room. Yuri can hear all the traffic whooshing outside in the absence of sound.

“Why would you think...” Otabek is staring at him like he doesn't quite believe what he's hearing. “You're not a _rebound_ , Yuri."

Yuri lowers his head, retreating. Otabek is so gentle when he continues, as if he's afraid of saying the wrong thing. "You know I care about you. A lot.”

“Yeah, but have you ever thought about how I might care _more_?”

Otabek sets his food down. “What do you mean?”

Yuri takes a deep breath, willing himself to rip the Band-aid off. He thinks back to when he was fifteen and impulsive and had no verbal filter. Otabek's calm, steady voice reciting, _“Does it need to be said? Does it need to be said right now? Do I need to be the one to say it?”_

“Anything you do... is probably gonna mean a lot more to me than it does to you,” Yuri admits. Otabek just looks at him, thoughtful, but uncomprehending. Not clear enough then.

Does it need to be said? Yes.

Does it need to be said right now? Yeah. Yuri can't imagine them ever revisiting this moment. 

Does it need to be said by Yuri? At this point, he can't imagine anyone who has more of a right to call Otabek out, except maybe JJ.

He tells him the truth.

“I've been in love with you since I was sixteen. Maybe earlier, shit, I don't know.”

Otabek freezes and Yuri can literally feel his heart beating in the roof of his mouth. He endeavors.

“I know you weren't thinking earlier, but that moment… It got to me. And I know that was just a reflex to you, and it's okay, but what's not okay is trying to start anything between us right now.”

Yuri bites his lip and finally makes eye contact.

“Honestly Beka? You’re not ready to date.” He ignores Otabek's flinch. “Not now, and maybe not for a long time. You're right. You've been through enough, and if you don't want this to keep happening, you need to get your shit together and _do_ something about it.”

“Like what?” Otabek asks flatly. Yuri takes a steady breath and keeps going.

“Ignoring your problems and shutting down isn't healthy. Avoiding fights isn't healthy. And it worries me, how fucked up you get sometimes, that JJ and I can't keep up.”

Yuri realizes he's twisting his hair too tightly and lets go. The room feels too small all of a sudden. He wants to hide. This is the first time he's ever felt unwelcome here. He checks his phone, realizes it's almost six o’clock, and starts to make an excuse about going home for dinner... when Otabek says “I think I need some time alone. Please.”

It hurts. Even though that was exactly the right decision, it still hurts. “Okay.”

Otabek nods, minutely, and watches Yuri leave. Yuri closes the door, without looking behind him, dialing JJ on the way out.

“Hey,” JJ answers on the second ring. “How is he?”

“Fine.” Yuri struggles to keep his voice normal even while jogging down the stairs. “Could you check up on him later? I just left.”

“Yeah sure, I was on my way over--”

“Thanks, JJ.”

There’s a pause. “Hey, is everything okay, Yuri?”

Yuri hangs up and sprints the rest of the way back home. He dashes upstairs after saying hello to his bewildered grandfather, closes the door, and buries himself under his covers. He closes his eyes, and tries to sleep, knocking out before he could think too hard about the look on Otabek's face as he watched him go.

 

::

 

After a few awkward check-ins that peter off into shallow conversations... they don’t talk for a week. Mila starts coming over instead of Otabek and wordlessly strokes his hair as they marathon Netflix specials together. She doesn’t give advice anymore, only holds him, when he’s done pretending he’s fine. She’s not as good at math as Otabek, but knows how to explain 19th century literature, so Yuri will take it.

 

::

 

Nikolai asks when Otabek doesn’t come around to dinner anymore.

“He’s probably busy,” Yuri mutters, clearing the dishes. The solemn glance Nikolai sends him speaks volumes that Yuri doesn’t want to read into. He seems to accept it, but Yuri still finds him hesitantly taking out a third plate whenever he sets the table.

After two weeks go by, he stops.

 

::

 

Yuri is pissed. Yuri is simultaneously stuck between Otabek Is Distressed Do Something Mode and Fuck This I Don't Want To Look At Him Mode. He knows the drill, but at the same time, he doesn’t. This is uncharted territory. Yuri’s never been the direct cause of Otabek’s hurt before, and honestly? Yuri doesn’t know what to do about it. There’s not a whole lot of times Yuri’s ever been pissed at Otabek either.

In fact, the more Yuri thinks about it, the more upset he gets, until he drops all his books into his locker and realizes how unhealthy it is that he's in fucking high school taking sole responsibility for all Otabek's problems.

Jesus Christ. Mila was right, maybe he did need his space.

 

::

 

By the time Yuri cools down, he starts to achingly miss Otabek, in a way he knows probably isn’t platonic. He realizes this after just one dinner with Victor and Yuuri. Their casual interactions--kissing each other’s foreheads in passing, tucking the tag in when it’s peeking out the back of their shirts, coming back with an extra glass of water for each other--Yuri misses that, and hates himself for missing that. He sighs and fishes his phone out of his pocket, startled to see a text on his screen from a familiar number.

 _I’m sorry,_ it reads, before the screen goes black. Yuri purposefully takes a deep breath, and doesn’t reply. He makes it through dessert and helping them clean up before making an excuse to leave. He ignores their concerned looks, but accepts Victor’s offer to drop him off. In the car, Yuri finally picks up his phone, only to turn off his read receipts.

“Yurio…” Victor looks straight ahead as he turns into their driveway. “Is everything…?”

“Not really,” Yuri mutters. He watches Victor’s reflection nod in the sideview mirror.

“I’m sorry. I’m here if you ever want to talk about it, okay?”

“Sure. Thanks, old man.”

He gets an affectionate ruffle of his hair for that, and he finds himself smiling, as Victor pulls away.

 

::

 

He has no idea what to say back yet. He’s about to type, when he’s slammed by a wall of text. Yuri’s heart leaps into his mouth and he hurriedly reads it.

 

 _I was selfish and shouldn’t have put you_  
_in that kind of position. I completely_  
_understand if you’re still upset with me._  
_I don't deserve--_

He gets through maybe a third of it before another text comes in, and then another, and then another. Yuri barely glances over them to realize Otabek isn’t organizing his thoughts like in the first one, only saying things like:

 

 _If you dont want to talkto me anymore_  
_i get it_  
_pleasdon’t hate me_  
_I feel awful  
_ _im sorry_

 

They get shorter and shorter, less words and more mistakes, and it doesn’t take long for him to realize Otabek’s probably in the middle of a panic attack.

Yuri hits **call** before he can even think about it. As soon as he does, he realizes maybe this isn’t the smartest thing to do. In fact, after five rings, Yuri is certain he’s making things worse. He’s about to hang up, when he hears Otabek’s quiet breathing.

“… Yuri?”

“Hey Beka,” Yuri answers, softening instantly.

“I’m so sorry,” Otabek whispers, still too fast and shaky, like he’s trying to get it under control.

“ _Hey_... Hey... It’s good to hear from you,” Yuri continues, purposefully keeps his voice calm and low. “Breathe with me?”

“I’m fine,” is the sharp answer.

“Please? Inhale…..” Yuri does so, slowly and measuredly. He’s taking a risk here; knows Otabek doesn’t owe him anything, doesn’t have to listen. After a tense silence, his risk pays off. Otabek inhales, and Yuri cautiously lets out his own breath, murmuring, “Exhale….. Inhale…..”

He keeps doing that, slow and measured, not really talking until Otabek’s calmed down.

“... Hey. Are you good?”

“Yeah... I’m good.”

A pause where neither of them know what to say.

“... I’m sorry,” Yuri says at the same time Otabek mutters, “Thanks.”

They stop again. There’s a hoarse, honest chuckle on Otabek’s end. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I just missed you.”

Yuri stares at the wall in front of him. His eyes are blurring. “I actually uh… was about to text you earlier.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I missed you too.” Yuri curls in on himself, tight. “I hate this.”

“Me too. Yuri…” Whatever Yuri was expecting him to say, the next words aren't it. “You don't always have to be fixing me, you know.”

“But I'm not,” Yuri says defensively.

“You are. Not that I don't appreciate it, but… that's my job.” Oh. “It reminds me how much of a wreck I am when I can't do it myself.” Oh. “And I don't like always making everything about me.”

“You never told me that before,” Yuri accuses, trying not to take it personally. He's glad Otabek is finally using his words, but ouch.

Otabek sighs, tired. “Didn’t see a point.”  

“Okay?” Yuri doesn't fucking know what to say to that.

“Shit, forget I said anything.”

“No, no,” Yuri sighs, leaning back on his hands. “You’re… You’re right. I didn’t realize… I’m glad you told me. Thanks.”

He hears a shuddering inhale. “I’m sorry. I really fucked up. I don't know how to fix it yet, but... I want to. I want us to be okay again.”

Yuri is silent.

“Yuri? You still there?”

“Okay,” Yuri answers. “Let's fix it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> speaking as someone who's gotten into trouble for being too tactlessly honest, that mantra has helped me a lot


	9. making it up as we go along

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> considering in this AU they're no longer world-renowned figure skaters, i toned down their skills 
> 
> though, considering i can't even stand up straight in ice-skates, maybe having them nail triples after years off the ice... is a tad unrealistic...
> 
> oh well.

* * *

 

Otabek is adamant on being friends again, deciding that everything else can wait. Yuri, who had been afraid of being a rebound, finds himself oddly emotional over this.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Otabek says, in that determined way of his. “And I’m not taking any chances when it comes to you.”

Yuri thinks he could burst from happiness, but he restrains himself. “You sure you know how to do that?” he teases, raising an eyebrow.

Otabek is undeterred, but his eyes slip to the ground. “Probably not,” he admits. “But I’m trying.”

Well. Fuck. Otabek isn't going to be the only one restraining himself.

 

::

 

He slips back into Yuri’s life like he’d never left.

Seeing Otabek next to Nikolai at dinner feels like coming home. Or… almost. Try as they might to keep everything the same, it’s _not_ the same.

Yuri still splashes him with water from the sink and slips ice cubes down the back of his shirt, but takes his time apologizing and gently drying Otabek’s face after. Otabek’s arm ends up around him during movies, and Yuri curls onto his chest more than he used to. Otabek can’t seem to stop himself from steadying Yuri’s back with one hand when they’re in crowds, or playing with his hair. One time he kisses Yuri’s forehead after he takes off the motorcycle helmet and looks a little freaked out with himself.

“Fuck. I’m sorry.”

Yuri snorts. “It’s fine.” More than fine.

 

::

 

“So, you and Yuri huh?” JJ asks, when Otabek’s over at his apartment one night. Otabek takes a sip of beer, not denying it. He'd come over to help JJ with one of the new songs for JJ's band, and okay, so maybe he'd smiled a little more than usual. Maybe he'd been more agreeable with composing the lyrics; even forgetting to make fun of the fact JJ was literally titling the whole thing after himself. Sue him.

JJ casually re-tunes his guitar, and Isabella senses a serious talk underfoot, taking that moment to stretch and announce that she was heading to bed.

“Good night, boys. Early morning tomorrow, got an 8 a.m seminar.”

“Ouch. Good night.” Both of them make a toast to her, which she solemnly accepts, finishing off her beer. She kisses JJ before padding softly into the kitchen to toss the empty. Great. 

“Beka,” JJ prompts, finally setting aside his guitar, and Otabek sighs.

“I know.”

“Don’t mess this up.” Otabek smiles into the lip of his bottle. Good old JJ, blunt as a hammer. “I like him, and he doesn’t know what he’s doing.”

“I don’t know what I’m doing either,” Otabek admits.

“Yeah, but that’s because you’re kinda an idiot who makes bad decisions--”

“Bitch.”

“--and not because you’re inexperienced,” JJ finishes, uncharacteristically serious. “It sounds like you’re his first everything.”

Otabek sets his bottle down. “I know. Keep me in check?”

JJ does a fucking double-take. “What?”

Otabek swallows and meets JJ’s eyes finally. “Please. I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t want to lose him.”

In all the years JJ’s ever known him, Otabek has never once come to him _asking_ for relationship advice. JJ’s always been the sunshine after the storm, the hands-off support, the one who cracked jokes when Otabek was taking things too seriously. As a best friend, he’s always just cleaned up the messes after they happened or heard about them after the fact.

But he’s done laughing and he’s done letting Otabek make messes. Yuri isn’t just a stranger JJ hardly cares about. Honestly, if he lets Otabek screw up the one good friendship he has in his life other than theirs, JJ might actually throw him into the ocean. But that’s probably not necessary. JJ thinks back to how he found Otabek weeks ago.

 _“Hellooo?_ Beka? Why are all the lights off,” JJ had called, flicking on the switch only to find Otabek sitting on the floor with his head in his hands.

“I fucked up,” Otabek had said, by way of greeting.

“Oh my god, I left you guys alone for literally _one day,_ what is going on?”

Otabek told him. JJ allowed one quiet, but intensely meaningful _“fuuuck”_ to slip into the air before sitting down next to him.

“You’re an idiot sometimes, you know that?” Otabek didn’t even fight back, which is how he knew it was bad. Otabek nodded, and JJ sighed, before throwing an arm around him and giving up.

“I’m sorry,” Otabek whispered, after a long moment of silence and JJ hadn’t spoken yet.

“For what?”

“For almost dying on you.” Right, that.

“Ehh. Don’t apologize.”

Otabek lifted his head up finally, only for JJ to shrug. “... Why aren’t you mad?”  

“Why would I be? Wasn’t your fault.”

“But…” Frustrated sigh. “You’re always taking care of me.”

“I mean, yeah. It’s not the first time. And it’s probably not the last.” JJ lightly kicked him with an ankle. “Just take it fucking easy next time, jeez. I never wanna have to go through that again.”

“... Thank you,” Otabek said sincerely, slumping into him. JJ squeezed him tighter. “I don’t deserve this.”

“Of course you don’t. You still have to make this up to me.”

Otabek shoved him off, and JJ pulled away, smirking. Otabek was smiling. It was weak, but it was there.

“What do you want?”

“Let me slash your boyfriend’s tires,” JJ said immediately.

“... I broke up with him.”

“No shit? For good?”

“Yeah.”

“Perfect! Let me slash your ex’s tires.”

“No.” Rude. JJ felt this was perfectly reasonable to ask. It was a step down from actually punching Andrei in the face.

“Just three.”

“Why three?”

“Because if you slash all four, then their insurance has to pay for it. But if it’s only three, it comes out of pocket.” JJ could tell he had Otabek sold. “Or at least let me put water in his gas tank.”

“... He drives a black Dodge Charger,” Otabek said at last, ruefully. “Leaves it parked in the street. Can’t miss it.”

JJ was unimpressed. “Of course he fucking does.”

After getting all the crazy and petty out of his system, JJ spent the next week and a half inviting Otabek over to their apartment after classes. Busy as he was, JJ managed all this under the pretense that he and Isabella just ordered way too much pizza, and needed someone to help pick up the slack. He may or may not have guilt tripped Otabek at some point. Otabek never called him out on it and was a quiet and easy addition to their nightly routine. JJ’s never seen him this quietly cut up over someone. He didn’t go out, quietly nursed his drinks instead of draining them, and started smoking while staring blankly at the wall.

“He’s taking this break up with Andrei pretty hard,” Isabella observed one day, having watched Otabek stare at the same Powerpoint slides for over an hour without moving, when JJ shook his head. “I thought that was the last guy he was seeing?”

“He and Yuri aren’t talking,” JJ muttered in explanation, and the look on Isabella’s face entirely changed.

“Oh... poor baby. I’m ordering more take out. Does he like Indian?”

“He’ll eat it.”

Isabella was incredibly gracious about the entire ordeal, though she did say to JJ at one point, “You do know that he’s a grown ass adult who can fix his own problems, right babe?”

“Of course,” JJ had said with false confidence, and Isabella looked right through him with a sternly raised eyebrow.

“Have a little more faith in your own best friend. He’s not that much of a wreck.”

“You don’t know him like I do, Bella,” JJ muttered, as she kissed his temple.

“No, I don’t. But even I can tell you’re babying him.” And she’d left before he could argue, stewing in the fact that she was right.

And she was. Otabek reached out and fixed things with Yuri on his own. When he relayed the gist of the conversation to JJ, he’d been impressed and more than a little proud. Otabek was taking the first steps in fixing his own mistakes, which meant that Otabek must _really_ care about Yuri, to be trusting JJ this much.

“Okay!” JJ promises in the end, beaming. Otabek seems to draw comfort from it, because he relaxes now, into the couch. “JJ Leroy, Love Guru Extraordinaire, reporting for duty.”

“Please don’t.”

“Shhh,” JJ says, moving one finger in Otabek’s direction. “The _Expert_ is speaking.”

There is a long, long silence wherein Otabek looks like he needs another beer. “I already have so many regrets,” he says at last.

“Yeah, and I’m here to make sure Yuri isn’t one of them.”

That shuts him up real fast. JJ grins, cracking open another bottle. He is going to _enjoy_ this responsibility.

 

::

 

“Did you know I used to ice skate?” Otabek asks. They’d been wandering the city on one of their adventures and stumbled across Yakov’s ice rink. Yuri’s eyes light up.

“No shit? I did too.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Right here, actually. Dedushka taught me, and Yakov used to be this famous like, coach for Olympic athletes. He pretty much babysat me at this rink until I was thirteen.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. He’s probably not here today though.”

“Want to go anyways?” Otabek inclines his head towards the ice rink again.

“Yeah!”

As they lace up their rental skates, Yuri asks, “Where did you find the time to skate in between all the other shit you used to do?” Otabek shrugs.

“I had a lot of free time.” Yuri believes that.

On the ice, it takes a moment to find his balance on the slippery sharp blades. Otabek steadies him, perfectly balanced, and Yuri leans a little more on him than he strictly needs to. He doesn't stop even when it all comes back to him.

“You good?”

Yuri sees a chance to con Otabek and he goes for it. He lowers his head.

“I think so. Hey Beka?”

“Yeah?”

“Twenty bucks to the first person who pulls off the hardest jump?”

Otabek stills. “That sounds like a recipe for disaster, Yura. Maybe not.”

“Why, are you scared? What’s the worst you can do, a single?”

Otabek’s eyes narrow. _Gotcha,_ Yuri thinks smugly. “Fine. Twenty bucks.”

Otabek lets him go and starts skating backwards, eyeing behind himself to make sure he didn’t hit anyone and had ample room. He starts off with a few simple spins, a camel and then a bullet spin, probably showing off for Yuri. He’s up and trying to work up the momentum, before executing a double Toe Loop. Yuri can tell he’s taking it easy on him, but that’s fine.

“Is that really the best you’ve got?”

“Do better first and then we’ll see.”

Yuri smirks. “Okay.”

Yuri debates drawing this out versus showing off straight away. He draws it out, mirroring Otabek’s exact routine, down to the double Toe Loop.

Otabek tilts his head, quietly impressed at this turn of events. He’s starting to get suspicious. “Not bad. My turn.”

And it keeps going like that.

Double Salchow. Yuri keeps up.

Double Loop. Otabek keeps up.

Triple Toe Loop. A little shaky coming out of the spin, but Yuri pulls it off anyways. _Now things are getting good,_ he thinks. He’s smug, thinking that he was safe, but Otabek apparently had much more training than he’d assumed. Otabek fucks up the first time, sets his teeth, and gets it right the second. And then he pulls out a fucking triple Salchow.

Oh. Okay, Yuri’s probably going to have to work for this then. He does a circuit around the rink, warming himself up, before attempting a triple Flip. Yuri narrowly avoids the boards, ice chips flying behind him and Otabek whistles lowly. He’d landed it.

“Let’s wait for the rink to clear out a little,” Otabek calls, and Yuri nods in agreement, catching his breath. “You’re good,” Otabek notices flatly, and Yuri just shrugs. His cockiness is wearing off. The rink gets cleared for a Zamboni to refresh the ice, and most of the crowd leaves by the time it’s done. Otabek pushes himself into the center, Yuri following far behind to give him room.

Otabek looks so intensely concentrated as he winds up for it, and manages to switch feet in time to counter-rotate. A triple Lutz. Yuri is _impressed_. He manages to copy the maneuver after two tries, the first ending in a single, and the second that he touched down for.

Finally, they realize how much attention they’re drawing to themselves and both are getting tired. Yuri pulls out his last stop.

He draws himself into a half-Biellmann spin, which is already impressive enough considering he isn’t as flexible as he was at fifteen… and then releases it, skating forward and gathering the power in his knees…

“Did you just fucking land a quad Salchow?” Otabek is staring at him in open amazement. The landing was wobbly, he two-footed it, but Yuri did. He’s amazed he didn’t end up flat on the ice. Yuri pants heavily in front of him, grinning. It _has_ been a while since he’s been on the ice. He hopes Otabek doesn’t have anything else in his arsenal, because Yuri is _wiped out_.

“Shit, Yura. Take my money.” Otabek skates right up to him, hand steadying his shoulder. Yuri leans up again, and Otabek’s hand unexpectedly slides into his hair, where it’s almost come loose from its ponytail. Otabek gives it a small tug, so that it tumbles around his shoulders, and hands him back the tie. Yuri doesn’t take it. His breathing doesn’t slow down either.

“You’re a really amazing skater,” Otabek breathes softly. “Always full of surprises, huh.”

“You are too,” Yuri argues back without any heat. “I had to work for those twenty dollars.”

“I don’t actually have any cash on me,” Otabek says, and Yuri’s eyes flicker unwillingly to his mouth.

“Can I ask for something else?” Has Otabek been standing that close this whole time?

“I don’t know...” Even when distracted, Otabek is unable to resist giving him shit. “That’s not what I agreed to.”

Yuri swallows. Goddamn it.

“Can I please kiss you?” Yuri asks hoarsely. He’d been planning to sound more confident than this, but fuck. Otabek tucks Yuri’s hair behind one ear, hand cupping his jaw. His hand is shaking too.

“God, yes.”

Yuri closes his eyes and leans into him, feels Otabek tilting his face to his. Yuri doesn’t know why he expected the kiss to be cold. The rink is chilly, but Otabek’s lips just _melt_ against his, lush and warm and holy shit, _yes._ Yuri’s arms wrap around Otabek’s shoulders, crossing behind his neck. He opens his mouth a little more, and wow.

“We’re bad at this whole ‘just friends’ thing,” Otabek observes wryly when they finally break away. Yuri leans his forehead against Otabek’s, sighing in agreement.

“We tried.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have never known a nice person who drove a Dodge Charger
> 
> adding water to your gas tank (in large enough quantities) will REALLY fuck your engine up. sugar, which is supposed to be the ultimate engine killer, surprisingly doesn't do anything (myth debunked)


	10. launched 1000 ships in my heart (so easy)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you only ever love like this once

* * *

 

"You sure this is a good idea?" Mila asks Yuri when he tells her that Otabek and him might be giving things a shot. "He's still the same person. All that emotional damage doesn't just disappear now that you're together."

Yuri shades in the right side of his picture without answering. He's not as talented as Mila, but his Siberian tiger isn't turning out too bad. He looks over at her sketchpad and promptly takes it back. He sucks. "I know that."

 _"DO_ you?" Mila asks rhetorically. "Let me answer that for you. No. You don't." She smudges the pastels a little, giving some dimension to the prismatic petals on her chrysanthemum. She's been in an East-Asian flower phase lately. "You have no idea what it's like, being with someone who _not only_ has a dark past, but is still _in the process_ of learning how to get their life together."

Yuri reaches for his eraser, re-doing the ears for the fourth time. "I guess. What's it like?"

Mila starts stroking in water droplets, before getting bored and reaching for the colored pencils. "It's hard. And sucks. And you can't blame them for learning, but I'd really rather he didn't have to learn with you as the guinea pig."

"Who's to say I won't be the one that sucks?" Fuck, they're too round again. He scrubs at the paper. "It's my first time dating anyone."

"I mean, that too." Mila sighs. "Honey, I really, really hope you don't settle on him, because trust me. That's a LOT to handle for your first relationship."

"But it's not his _fault_." Yuri sets his jaw.

"No one's at fault, kitten. That still doesn’t make it easy," Mila returns, not unsympathetically. "You're not his therapist. Or his keeper. You're his best friend, and maybe you’ll be his boyfriend one day, but all that still comes with baggage."

Yuri wants to argue, but he can't, because he knows she's right. Nothing's changed. Yuri had said it himself when he'd stopped Otabek a month ago. Emotional scars, especially the ones left by abuse, run deep and heal over shallowly. Mila notices, especially when he doesn't even bother getting angry at her poking smudgy finger prints on his paper. She sets her things aside and holds him.

"I'm just trying to look out for you," she whispers, and Yuri is surprised at how sad she sounds. "I already know you love him. I just want you to be prepared in case things don't turn out the way you hoped."

Yuri squeezes back. "Is it worth it?"

Mila is silent for a while. "Hand me that black notebook next to you? It's under the pile of textbooks. Under my desk."

He digs it out and she takes it from him, thumbing to a page somewhere in the middle. The pages are full of Mila's neat, slanted handwriting, and when she hands it back to him, it's turned to a poem. He starts reading.

 

 

> we all have  
>  that one person  
>  where when it comes to them  
>  we don’t have any answers

> just memories,  
>  that taste sweet when you try  
>  to let go of them  
>  and bitter when you try  
>  to hold onto them

> all that comes to mind  
>  is how they made you feel  
>  and how they always  
>  make you feel

> vulnerable,  
>  just from hearing  
>  their name  
>  or seeing their face  
>  without warning

> they get a reaction  
>  without even trying  
>  without even being there  
>  we all have that one person

 

“Did you write this?” Yuri asks, trusting his voice to be stable. Mila nods. “It’s amazing.”

“It’s alright,” Mila shrugs. “I was seventeen.” When she reflects on the memories, her eyes are the color of forget-me-not’s. “We never were official or anything, but god Yuri, he had me by the heart strings.”

Yuri’s almost afraid to ask, so instead he traces the thin blue ink neatly contained by the squares of the graphing paper.

“I wouldn’t change a thing.”

Yuri looks up, surprised. Mila smiles regretfully.

“It was the most painful fucking thing, but everything was just… _more_ when it came to him. Like, happiness was five times happier, and sadness was like the pits of hell. Love and anger were both like... I was seeing red or something, I don’t know. I hated him afterwards. But I wouldn’t take it back.”

“I don’t want to hate him,” Yuri whispers.

“Maybe you won’t," Mila shrugs. "I never had the history with him that you and Beka do.”

“Mila, I’m scared. What if I fuck this up? I don’t…” Suddenly, Yuri has an image of Beka being neatly contained in the pages of a notebook that doesn’t get touched anymore, alive only in the confines of his memories. “I don’t want to lose him.”

“Baby, I’ve seen you. And I’ve seen him. Whatever happens, I think you’ll both be pretty fair about it.”

“This is terrifying.”

“That’s love.” Mila closes the notebook. “You always end up risking something.”

“But it’s worth it?”

Mila looks at him for a long moment, before ruefully twisting her lips. “Y'know... If I could keep you safe forever, I would. But... playing it safe isn’t how you end up happy in life. And I guess I’d rather you were happy.”

Yuri swears he’s not tearing up.

"Thanks, baba." He doesn't say it often, but he musters it up, feeling this is the only word to express what he's feeling. "... I love you."

"I know, Yurochka." She smirks. "Me too."

Mila’s smaller in his arms these days, but even though Yuri is a head taller, her hug still feels like the safest place in the world.

“Beka sounds like he makes you happy," she whispers into his hair. "I’ve watched him do it for years... So. Go for it. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

 

::

 

In a lot of ways, nothing changes. 

Otabek still loves getting high and skateboarding until 2 a.m with Yuri. They still watch movies together and do homework on the floor. Yuri is perfunctory as he leads him through a hip hop routine, and Otabek doesn't hold back while teaching Yuri how to redirect punches, and the both of them constantly show off for each other while ice skating. He still fucks up the eggs when they make katsudon and purposefully splashes Yuri as they’re doing dishes.

The only thing that changes is the context. 

Otabek continues making playlists for Yuri to listen to, even if nowadays, they contain a lot more soft songs and suggestive lyrics. Yuri holds on tighter when they explore cities on the bike, his entire body pressed in a long line against Otabek's back. Yuri even gets a fake ID and actually starts going to the venues where Otabek DJ’s; supporting him on weekends he’s not swamped with classes and can wheedle Nikolai into saying yes.

"You never used to before," Otabek teases,  and Yuri only rolls his eyes.

"We're together. I'd be an asshole if I didn't at this point."

They kiss now, a lot. Otabek loves kissing Yuri on roof tops, drunk off shitty beer, with amber street lamps studding the darkness below. He loves kissing; after his set is over, and Yuri is grinding lazily against his body, lit up in hydrogen-red and blazing neon blue. Otabek loves the little kisses he gets on the nape of his neck while he's studying, or when he's waking up from a nap, or when he's distracted and Yuri wants his attention.  

He doesn’t have the words to capture the effortless, amazing feeling of being with Yuri. 

He just feels like himself, only more.

That’s probably the best way to put it. 

 

::

 

It's not easy, but then again, Otabek didn't expect it to be. 

Some things don’t change. Otabek is still quiet and either unable or unwilling to articulate his feelings. He's still stubborn and doesn’t react in predictable or healthy ways. He still hates fighting and will do just about anything to avoid it.

Some things do change. Otabek is a lot more insecure around Yuri now than he used to be.

“Maybe this was a bad idea,” Otabek tells him out of the blue one day, after Yuri had spent the entire previous week working, coming home exhausted, and crashing... before waking up the next day for school without texting Otabek once. Any replies he had sent had been hours apart and short, void of emojis or real substance. When he sees him in person, Yuri is so distracted (with group projects and papers and exams) that it's like he's not even there at all.

Normally, Otabek is incredibly supportive when it came to his education. But this new, needy version of himself recoils at the lack of affection, instantly taking it as a sign that he wasn't enough, that Yuri wasn't interested. Yuri, who had been looking forward to seeing him after that whole tiring ordeal, is hurt and bewildered.

“Wh… What?”

Otabek can’t stop himself from fidgeting, which is even more weird, because this is _Yuri_ and Otabek’s not used to being… anxious around him.

“I mean. You’re busy. And young. And you have so much going for you.” Which is true. It's just not the truth. “This should be the best time of your life, and I’m…”

The truth is Otabek is damaged. The truth is he's difficult, and he knows it. The truth is he's scared _._

“I just don’t know if this is a good idea.”

“Beka, where did this _come_ from?”

“I just don’t think--”

“Babe, is this because I didn’t text you?” Babe. He’s never called Otabek _babe_. It causes this immediate happy little swoop in Otabek’s stomach, but it gets swallowed by the anxiety.

“No.” Yes. “I just think… I don’t know. Are you happy? With me?”

“YES? What the fuck?” Yuri looks at him like he’s sprouted another head. “Is everything okay?”

“Of course.” Otabek is good at controlling his breathing, good at saying what he thinks the situation calls for, before realizing Yuri’s closed the distance. Yuri's hands smooth comfortingly down his arms.

“Beka…” he murmurs. “I’m sorry. Can we… talk? I wanna know why you think that we shouldn’t.”

“I…” _Be honest,_ a voice that sounds suspiciously like JJ’s coaxes inside his head. “I don’t think that. I just thought that maybe you did.”

“But I _don’t_.” Yuri looks so utterly confused. “I mean… Honestly, the only reason I would back out right now would be if _you_ didn’t want to anymore. Which, yanno, would suck and eventually I’d get over it. But I really, really don’t want to?”

“... Okay,” Otabek agrees reluctantly, and Yuri almost slumps in relief.

“Fuck. Okay. Don’t scare me like that. I’ll text you more.”

But Otabek shakes his head. “It wasn’t just… that.”

“Then what is it?”

“I…” God this was so hard. How did other people do this? “I’m not… I wish I wasn’t…”

“Beka...” Otabek loves the intimate way Yuri says his name nowadays. He immediately feels reassured, even if at the same time, he takes everything so well that Otabek feels fucking ridiculous and irrational.

“I wish I was like you, Yura.”

Yuri considers him for a second, before taking Otabek’s arms and wrapping them around himself. Otabek squeezes him gently, and Yuri tucks his face into the crook of Otabek’s neck. It’s nice.

“Why?”

“Because you trust more easily.” _You trust people, period. You love like you’ve never been hurt._ “And you’re strong. I’ve always admired that.”

Yuri snorts. “Since when?”

Otabek shrugs. “Since we first met? You’re kind of intimidating, you know.”

“What the fuck? How? I was like _fifteen_.”

“Yeah, and you had this look in your eyes, like you weren’t scared of anything.”

“You noticed my eyes in the _dark?_ ”

“It’s kinda hard not to.” Cat’s-eye green and as piercing as they were. Yuri is quiet for a second.

 _“You’re_ strong,” he tells Otabek softly.

No. Otabek knows he’s not. 

“Thanks,” he says anyway.

“I mean it.” Stubborn silence. “You’ve literally been through hell and back. And I don’t know _how_ you trust me right now, after all that, but I’m not questioning it. I’m just happy it’s happening.”

“Yura…”

“It’s not your fault.” A kiss on his neck. “None of it was your fault. I’m so… so angry and sad any of it happened. But you’re here, and I promise, I _promise_ you’re safe.”

Fuck, Otabek knows he doesn’t deserve Yuri. He knows he’s a screamingly insecure mess, and Yuri deserves someone much healthier, more whole, less complicated than this. But he also is incredibly selfish and…

He wants this. He wants to be here, so fucking badly.

Otabek just holds Yuri tightly, and Yuri continues nuzzling his face into Otabek’s neck, and yeah. They’re okay. They’re gonna be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm definitely more of a writer than a poet, but i tried
> 
> my favorite description of love is that "it feels like winning the lottery as you're falling down the stairs" 
> 
> i definitely have loved, but i don't know if i've ever been IN love. is there a difference?


	11. like puzzle pieces

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the idea of Yuri in customer service makes me cackle
> 
> i have friends who are chemistry/biology/ engineering majors and their class averages are no joke

Yuri is working part-time now at the skating rink, where he spends the majority of his time repressing his murderous hatred for customer service and the other portion texting Beka when things are slow. He's towards the end of his junior year in high school, and everything's all coming at him at once: AP exams and the SAT's are around the corner, as well as college applications once November hits. He's just gotten his license, and is insisting on taking care of his own ridiculously high car insurance, which means he works a lot more than he has free time. Yuri stopped dancing with Mila's intramural team, and is starting to get withdrawals because he misses getting to see her three times a week. He takes it even harder that his exhaustion and hours cut into his time with Otabek.

"School comes first, Yura," Otabek had reassured him. "I get it. It's okay." 

He still comes over after Yuri's shifts are over, doing homework with him on the floor, but now he sleeps over instead of going out after. Yuri loves falling asleep on Otabek's chest, one arm loosely around him, as they both scroll through their respective phones. He's a cuddle-fiend, and Otabek doesn't kick or talk in his sleep, which Yuri silently thanks the universe for. They usually get ready together, with Yuri waking Otabek up, which is how Yuri finds out Otabek is  _not_ a morning person. Like, at all. 

"Beka, it's almost 8, get up."

"I have 10 am lectures for a reason." Otabek buries himself under the covers, rolling onto his stomach when Yuri drags the blankets off. "Cut it out."

"Ugh, fine. At least help me pick out a shirt?"

"Black concert tee, bottom drawer," Otabek says, without even looking up. "The one you never gave back."

"Led Zeppelin or Nirvana?"

"You have  _both?"_

"No, but that woke you up."

Otabek throws a pillow at him, which Yuri tosses back, only to roll into bed with him and snuggle into his back. Otabek rolls over.

"I hate you."

"No, you don't."

A kiss on the forehead. "No, I don't."

"Get up."

"No."

 

::

 

As difficult as Yuri's schedule is now, Otabek's is just as crammed. He's deep into his upper-division classes now, and because he's part of an impacted major, things took a turn for the murderously difficult about three exams ago.

“How is the class average a _43%?_ Are they trying to kill you?” Yuri asks in absolute horror. Otabek, dead-eyed and sipping on a triple shot espresso, only nods and gets back to his notes.

He prays for a curve almost every week, and sometimes it comes true, but most of the time...

It doesn't.

He doesn't go hard like he used to anymore--partly because he's now dating Yuri and partly because it's taking every ounce of his effort to scrape a B average. Otabek's tests teeter between 76% and 82% these days, which is pretty incredible, but not to his standards at all.

The day he gets back a 56% on a test he studied three days in advance for, he kind of has a meltdown. 

"I have no idea what I'm doing," he tells Yuri, face-down on the dining room table. "I  _hate_ this class. I hate this major."

Nikolai sets down a plate of cookies next to Otabek's head, and sets a heavy hand on his shoulder. "Beshka, think of what you'll do once you're done." Oh no. "These classes are hard now, but once you're in your career?" Nikolai raises an eyebrow at Yuri, who's started making the cutting motion across his throat as a sign of  _ending that conversation._ "It'll be worth it."

"Of course. Taking over my family's business. I can't wait." Yuri slaps himself in the forehead. Nikolai is perturbed by how vacant Otabek's words are.

"Is this not what you picked out for yourself?"

"No, dedushka." Nikolai only purses his lips, which indicates he is likely holding in strong opinions about Otabek's parents' choices. 

"I see," is all he says mildly in the end. He pushes the plate closer, until it's poking Otabek's folded arms. "Eat up. You need your strength."

 

::

 

They still have dinner with Nikolai, and sometimes go out on double-dates with JJ and Isabella, which basically turn into study dates as their finals come around. They’re sometimes joined by Mila, who is the only one of them not actively wanting to jump off a bridge, but only barely.

“I want to die,” JJ intones dramatically to his flashcards, which are so thick that he’s started using rubber bands to keep them together. “This is so not JJ Style.”

“Shut up,” Otabek mutters, highlighting entire paragraphs of his textbook. “I don’t want to hear it, you’re the one who decided to go into Law.”

“Using a _political science degree,_ this isn’t supposed to be a hard major.”

“Are you crazy?” Isabella asks indignantly. “We’re ranked among the top fifteen schools in the nation, counting _Ivy Leagues_. There ARE no easy majors.”

“I never want to go to college,” Yuri mutters. _Order for Yuri!_ someone calls from the front, and he leaves them to their suffering.

“I’m going to flunk this class,” Otabek mutters, leaning backwards. The eye strain has finally set in. “I’ve accepted it.”

“You’re fine, Beks,” Mila soothes. She spits out the pen in her mouth, though she hadn't done much with it besides furiously twirl it in between flipping pages. Otabek isn't sure how much work she's actually getting done. “You’re one of the smartest guys I know, you’ll set the curve.”

“Thanks. At least one of us has faith in me.”

“Two of us,” he hears Yuri correct. Otabek opens his eyes to a slice of chocolate cake in front of him. He stares at it, before poking at the berries and whipped cream on top, certain it’s a hallucination.

“Is this for me?” he asks Yuri.

“Yeah. Relax. You’re gonna kill it, Beka.” Otabek thinks his heart might’ve melted, resolidified, and melted again.

“Aww, how come _you_ don’t get me cake, babe?” JJ coos to Isabella.

“Because we’re getting married and the magic is gone. I’ve already tapped that.”

“Lame.” JJ pouts as she kisses his cheek.

“How come _you_ don’t get me cake?” Mila repeats back to Yuri, fluttering her eyelashes. “Playing favorites?” Yuri is impassive.

“Date me, and then you’ll get free cake.”

“Whatever. I see where your loyalties lie.”

“Why am I being punished for being a good person?!” Yuri splutters, only to be soundly ignored.

“Thanks for stealing my best friend,” Mila frowns at Otabek, who only answers, “You’re welcome, I’m never giving him back,” before splitting off a piece for her and going back to his laptop.

 

::

 

Despite all that, Yuri isn't perfect. He's got a short fuse and he does insensitive things sometimes because he's inexperienced. It hurts a lot more when it's with Yuri, because Otabek has him on such a high pedestal that even small mistakes are devastating.

“I’m not Andrei,” Yuri snaps at him during an argument one day, and Otabek’s expression freezes. “I don’t get off on fighting with you, and if I know you’re upset, I’m actually going to _do_ things about it. So please just talk to me.”

“I know you’re not Andrei.” _Calm down,_ Otabek instructs himself. _He doesn't know any better, calm down..._

“Then why do you treat me like I am?” Yuri pushes, and Jesus.

“Please don’t bring up my ex,” Otabek says flatly, as neutrally as he can. “Especially when he has nothing to do with this.”

“He kind of does?” No. He doesn’t. “It’s not fair, he’s the one who fucked up, why am I the one--”

Yuri stops, seeming to realize how much of a hole he’s just dug for himself. To his credit, Otabek stays present, instead doing what he wants to do, which is to walk off and turn his phone on silent.

“You know what? You’re right. I’m sorry that you’re the one who has to deal with my crazy ass now.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“That’s how it sounds.” Fuck this. Otabek compromises and stalks off, but only to the planter a short distance away. Yuri gives him his space, which he uses to cool down, when he feels Yuri's presence coming to hover just outside of the corner of his vision. He waits, still cold and tense.

“I didn’t mean that.” Yuri’s green eyes waver uncertainly. “... I’m sorry. I take it back.”

Somehow, that makes it sting even more. “Yura, you _know_ better.”

"I know, I shouldn't have said that."

"Then why  _did_ you?"

"I'm..."

They stare at each other, until Yuri spits it out. 

“Beka, I'm not _perfect,_ " and it doesn't click until then, just how much pressure he's putting Yuri under. They stare at each other until Otabek softens.

“I knew that,” Otabek says quietly, even though he didn't.

“Do you?” And oh, he can see the scared look in Yuri's eyes now. “I just try a lot harder and care a lot more. I don't actually know what I'm doing." 

“I know.” Yuri messes up, but he always works to make things right again. His track record is incredible; better than anyone Otabek's ever dated. Maybe that's why Otabek's standards are so high. “Hey… I do. I’m sorry. I was overreacting.”

Yuri doesn’t push him off when Otabek reaches for his hand, so he runs his thumb soothingly over Yuri’s knuckles. Gives his fingers a squeeze.

“I’m sorry.”

Yuri looks at him, and they hold each other’s gaze, until both of them give watery laughs.

“I’m sorry too.”

The bright side is that it's also _Yuri_.

Yuri, who doesn't really need Otabek to verbalize things to understand how he's feeling. Yuri, who trusts his gut instincts and persistently coaxes Otabek when he's unwilling to talk. Yuri, who doesn't let a fight stop him from being there when it counted, who is always fair and apologizes when he’s in the wrong, and earnestly asks how to be better.

Otabek may not be perfect and his problems have definitely not gone away. But he can't imagine anyone better equipped to handle them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> they're both trying their best


	12. let's talk about sex, baby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> literally, the chapter I know y'all have been waiting for 
> 
> enjoy

Considering Yuri’s inexperience, Otabek lets him set the pace on the physical aspects of their relationship. Which progresses, to his surprise, much quicker than he’d predicted. Yuri had this _look_ in his eyes, determined to thoroughly master each step of intimacy before moving onto the next.

It is the most intensely dizzying and glorious process of Otabek’s life. Otabek has never had someone so committed to learning his body before.Yuri sleeps over every other night now, and goes from learning how to kiss him breathless in every possible way, to hand jobs that start off awkwardly before quickly becoming finessed… To learning to use his mouth with his hands, and…

Yeah, he gets good. Almost a little too good. The week that Yuri sets about abolishing his gag reflex Otabek almost believes in a god again.

 

::

 

And then they get to the trickier part.

“What’s more comfortable for you?” Otabek asks gently. “If you topped or if I topped?”

Yuri bites his lip. “I don’t know. Maybe if you did first? I don’t want to accidentally hurt you.”

Otabek smiles at his earnest expression. “Okay.”

Otabek is almost too careful with him at first, and Yuri gets impatient. He goes over exactly how to prep and how it’s supposed to feel and what’s considered normal and not-normal pain. “Just how much lube do we really need?” Yuri grumbles after the lecture, when he finally convinces Otabek to _show_ him. “Jesus, Beka.”

“No such thing as being too careful,” Otabek shrugs, up-capping it again. He’s so gentle when he fingers him that Yuri squirms with impatience.

“I’m not made of glass, you know. I promise you don’t have to go easy on me.”

He rolls his eyes when Otabek ignores him, as usual. He lets Yuri get used to it, until he reaches three or four fingers every time. Yuri is all but dragging him onto the bed at this point, insisting that enough was enough, “stop _teasing,_  Beka, c’mon.”

 

::

 

The sex, when they eventually end up having it, is…

It’s...

“You can’t be serious,” Otabek says to the ceiling, rolling over. The scratches on his shoulders and back burn dully and it’s fucking beautiful. He feels his _scalp_ tingle. None of his limbs are working properly. “We can’t be this compatible. That’s impossible.”

Yuri just shrugs and snuggles deeper into his arms, wholly satisfied.

It is, and they are. Yuri takes to it beautifully, and even any mistakes or awkwardness becomes something to laugh about together, not get embarrassed over. Otabek likes laughing in bed with Yuri's forehead against his chest as much as he likes pinning his hips down and making him claw at the headboard. Their styles are complementary, because Yuri likes it rough. Yuri likes trying out new positions, always curious to see what worked best. In fact, Yuri is a fucking hell-cat in bed, and sometimes Otabek wants to see what would happen if he just let him take over. Yuri would probably ride him into oblivion and maybe that’s not such a bad way to die.

 

::

 

Otabek is good about keeping things subtle. Yuri, however, is not. 

"Nice bruise, where'd you get it?" JJ asks out of the blue when they're over at Otabek's apartment playing Mario Kart. Yuri chokes and steers himself straight off a cliff. JJ snickers and takes first place. Otabek, who was about to cross the finish line, gives JJ an unimpressed look.

"[Golf balls, mom, I swear](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/db/12/44/db12448c76df8a4879e4d5cf4ceb7cac.jpg)," Otabek deadpans. JJ winks at Yuri, who is still burning bright red, considering Otabek was the one with the hickey on his throat. Yuri wishes he'd kept it below the collar. 

"Poor baby," JJ coos and Otabek punches him in retaliation. 

"That was cheating!" Yuri accuses.

"Yeah, well. You do what you gotta do."

Otabek shakes his head in amusement, before kissing Yuri's burning neck. And, oh god, now Yuri is being called out  _and_ dangerously close to getting a boner. Life wasn't fair.

 

::

 

Sometimes, he shows inclinations of wanting to be more dominant, and Otabek finds himself short of breath when Yuri bites him or lightly presses a hand against his throat.

“I think you might be ready,” Otabek says after a few months pass and sex has become as comfortable and reflexive for them as breathing. Yuri has had a LOT of practice up to this point, but it doesn’t dispel the nervousness.

“Are you sure?” he asks for the umpteenth time. Otabek has been naked for the last ten minutes trying to convince him that he’s doing fine, nothing hurts, please just kiss me and get on with it.

“No wonder you were so neurotic about it with me,” Yuri mutters, circling with his index finger but not penetrating. Otabek is going to lose his patience, but he just smiles reassuringly instead. “This is terrifying. You better tell me if anything hurts.”

Otabek captures his face with one hand. “I promise,” Otabek says, nudging his hips forward.

It is awkward at first, and Yuri is a bit clumsy at it, trying so hard to be gentle and also searching for his prostate. Otabek guides him as best as he can, sighing and urging when he was on the right track. Yuri gets all the way up to two fingers before they hit their first road block. Otabek winces and Yuri immediately stops.

“I’m fine,” Otabek quickly reassures, but Yuri’s completely lost his confidence. “Yura, it’s okay, you can keep going.”

“No, let’s not.” He blows Otabek instead, and allows him to do it in return, which is _fantastic,_ but still.

“You’re so gentle with me,” Otabek teases, parroting Yuri's complaints to the ceiling. “I won’t break, you know.”

Yuri crosses his arms. “Shut up.” He mumbles something else stubbornly into the pillow that Otabek has to ask him to repeat. Yuri blushes and hides behind his hair, which he's let grow out into these touseled, beachy blonde waves that Otabek is a little bit obsessed with ("It's just this sea salt spray Mila gave me, calm down.") He plays with one long lock, as Yuri repeats, “I said, I want it to be good for you.”

"It's always good," Otabek says absently. "If it's with you."

"That's a cop-out answer."

"But it's true." Even bad sex is great when it's with someone you love. "Sex is like, 80% emotions, you know. And I happen to like you a lot. So."

"Yeah, but that's not..." Yuri turns his head away, and Otabek senses something amiss. 

"Yura," Otabek murmurs, nosing his shoulder. "Don't be so hard on yourself. There's no pressure."

"Of course there's pressure!" Yuri exclaims. "It's  _you!_ "

Otabek doesn't quite know how to take that.

"The fuck is _that_ supposed to mean?"

"You... you always know what you're doing! And you're so good at it! And you've done this loads of times with all these different people!"

The penny drops. "... Oh." When he says it like that... "Yura. You don't have to compare."

"I can't help it," Yuri says in frustration,  hugging a pillow to muffle his voice. "I don't want it to be good, just because it's me. I want it to be  _great,_ I want you to feel great, because you always make me feel--"

He stops his rant and it's the cutest thing Otabek can remember seeing in a long time. Yuri's ears are practically glowing with embarrassment. 

"Thank you," he says simply. Yuri looks back at him. "I don't remember the last time I ever felt this important to someone." 

Yuri splutters.

"WHAT KIND OF MISERABLE--"

"My dating history sucks, get over it."

"UGH," Yuri groans, trying not to crack a grin. "Yeah, yeah. At least I know what I'm up against."

"I mean, if you really want me to say it, sex is just sex," Otabek shrugs at Yuri's disbelief. "In the least whore-ish way possible, it's not that hard to find someone who can get me off. But this?" He places his hand on Yuri's cheek, tilting his head. "I've never had this." 

Dammit, he hoped that wasn't as sappy as it sounded. 

"You were such a huge man-whore." Yuri teases. "What, are you telling me you weren't satisfied with everyone throwing themselves on your dick?"

"You... I..." Oh no. Now _he's_  the one stumbling, fuck, just power through, just say it. "I think... the only reason I had so much sex... was to try and find what we have."

Oh god it is SO MUCH WORSE than he could've imagined. Why did no one _tell_ him that vulnerability turned him into a Hopeless Romantic? Otabek is almost disgusted with himself when he sees the heart-stoppingly gentle curl to Yuri's mouth, sea-green eyes bright with amazement. 

"You're such a fucking sap," Yuri laughs, playfully rolling on top of him. Yuri nips at his lips and, okay, that was kind of worth it.

 

::

 

Yuri does try again a few days later, and this time he employs all the precision and skill Otabek could ask for. He learns fast, catalogues what each noise Otabek made implies, and before long, he’s three fingers deep and got a pretty good angle and rhythm going. Otabek’s eyes slide closed and he almost _purrs_. This was more like it.

When Yuri finds _that spot_ Otabek has a brief vision of his untimely death, which he calmly accepts with open arms. “Oh god, right there.”

Yuri Plisetsky is merciless and a tyrant and Otabek can’t remember the last time anyone made him come just from being fingered, what the actual FUCK.

“How do you keep _doing_ that?” Otabek gasps when he finally remembers how to breathe.  

“Doing what?”

“Being so fucking good at this.”

Yuri rubs comfortingly at his thigh, smugness restored. "Well, you see... It starts with 10% luck." Otabek is about to say something encouraging and sincere when Yuri finishes it off with, "[20% skill...](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VDvr08sCPOc)  _15% concentrated power of wil--"_

Otabek kicks him. 

“You don't like Fort Minor?”

Otabek falls backwards, arm over his eyes. This is what he gets for dating his best friend. There is no romantic afterglow. Only annoyance. He feels a nudge on his thigh, and remembers Yuri is still hard. He smirks.

“Shame to let all this prep go to waste,” Otabek says lightly, and hears Yuri gulp.  Otabek's smile widens. He’s careful to smooth his face out when he looks back at Yuri, raising an eyebrow. “Well? You gonna fuck me or not?”

“Do you have to be such a smug bastard about it?”

Yuri crawls onto the bed, rolls a condom on with shaking fingers. He’s too excited to quite manage it, so Otabek helps him out. He liberally slicks Yuri up with more lube, and guides him back down. Yuri starts kissing him, deep and slow, and Otabek's hands start roving all over his skin. His thighs make room for Yuri to kneel in between, and he crosses his legs behind the small of Yuri’s back. This was nice. Really nice.

The first push in takes him aback. He’s forgotten how big Yuri is. Fuck. How did he _forget_? He sees that dick on a daily basis.

“You okay, babe?” Yuri kisses his forehead. Otabek is too stubborn and prideful to bitch out now.

“Great. Keep going.”

Holy. Shit. Yuri pushes in slow and nope, _this_ was the death Otabek envisioned. It’s a tight fit even _with_ Otabek’s sex-slackened muscles. Otabek feels his hands clench into the sheets without his permission. He can’t tell if this is a good or a bad stretch until Yuri bottoms out and allows him to adjust. Once he does, he moves his hips experimentally and _oh._ Oh. “Nghh.”

Okay this was good. Yuri hasn’t moved this entire time, hardly breathing, and Otabek forces himself to relax. At his encouraging nod, Yuri starts pulling back and oh god when he pushes in again shit shit shit--

“Beka, do you want us to stop?” Damn him. _Damn him for caring._

“No,” Otabek says stubbornly.

“Beka, you’re really tense. Tell me honestly.”

“I am. I don’t want you to stop. Please?”

Yuri looks like he wants to strangle Otabek with his eyes. “I swear to God if you’re lying to me right now…”

“Please? I’m okay.” He mouths along Yuri’s jaw, kissing his shoulder. “Go on.”

Yuri moves excruciatingly slowly, but he reaches a hand down and starts stroking Otabek, just the way he likes and _oh_... now that he’s distracted… this is going a lot smoother. In fact, when Yuri runs his thumb over the head, Otabek is _so distracted_ that he almost misses the fact that Yuri grazed his prostate. Almost.

Yuri doesn’t miss the hitch in his breathing though, and aims at that exact spot again. And again. And again until Otabek is pretty much reduced to demanding limbs and biting kisses. Yuri doesn’t feed into his desperation though. Otabek is surprised to find Yuri pulling back a hairsbreadth before returning his kisses almost sweetly; rocking into him steady and deep.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” Yuri mutters into his throat. “Feels so good, Beka.”

“Hnngh,” Otabek replies, and curls his body closer. It’s good. It’s all good now.

There's lots of soft kisses against his skin, and earnest caressing, and Otabek can't remember the last time anyone _looked_ at him like that without looking away. People have made love to him before, but this might be the first time Otabek’s ever done it back.

He needs more, but can’t formulate the words to ask for it. Yuri is nothing if not an expert at reading him though, and it’s like something _shifts_ in his gaze. Without warning, he snaps his hips forward. Hard.

Otabek twists and swears he sees stars. Fuck.

“Say my name,” Yuri silkily demands, and _shit_.

“Yura,” Otabek growls and Yuri pulls back and drives in hard again. _Yes._

“That’s more like it.” Otabek likes how low Yuri's voice can get. A casual flick of the eyes is all he gets as warning, before Otabek finds himself pinned down by the throat, the lightest pressure from Yuri's palm against his larynx. He gets hard again embarrassingly fast, and Yuri kisses him delicately before setting a harsh pace.

Otabek is not surprised when Yuri makes him come again. He’s surprised Yuri lasted this long, but is extremely smug when he makes Yuri come almost immediately after, just from the sound of his voice.

“Wanna feel you come inside me,” he murmurs, canines tugging gently at the lobe of Yuri's ear. Yuri's fingers _dig_ into his hips, one hand pulling at his hair. “Mmm... That's it. Just like that.” Otabek molds himself tightly to Yuri as the orgasm courses through him, Yuri groaning his name.

“How was that?” Yuri asks later, when they’ve both come down and caught their breaths. He’s discarded the condom and is cleaning Otabek’s lower abs with a washcloth. There’s bruises on Otabek’s hips. His ass still has marks from where Yuri dug his nails in.

“Perfect,” Otabek answers. Yuri smiles with his eyes and Otabek swears his heart is doing quad Loops in his chest.

“Good,” Yuri says simply, leaning his face on one hand. Otabek kisses him, eyes closed, soft and lingering. Yuri's other hand seeks out Otabek's under the sheets, and curls into his palm, thumb brushing against his.

He feels so taken care of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... 5% pleasure, 50% pain, and 100% REASON TO REMEMBER THE NAME
> 
> give me equal opportunity topping or give me death


	13. should i stay or should i go?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi ♡

 

* * *

 

Yuri wishes he could freeze time forever, but things are changing whether he wants them to or not. A lot of changes are looming on the horizon; Mila, JJ, and Isabella are all expected to graduate within the next year and Otabek shouldn't be far behind. Yuri himself is nearing the end of his senior year. College applications, which had seemed so far away, are suddenly here. Yuri doesn't even want to look at them. He hates having to stare his personal achievements in the face--wondering if he even came close to measuring up, when there's so many millions of equally smart, equally accomplished students applying to the same places. He hates the personal statements he has to write, hates being forced to beg institutions to accept him.

He hates being the youngest. Because it doesn't matter if he goes or if he stays.

Everyone's leaving him.

 

::

 

“Remind me what your email was again?”  

“Why?”

“Nevermind, I found it.”

Yuri’s laptop _dings_ gently as his Gmail pops up with a notification. He raises an eyebrow at Otabek who is literally sitting crossed legged on the floor less than ten feet from him. The subject line gives nothing away either, because all Otabek put was _you’re welcome._ He opens it and just stares at the screen for a solid two minutes. After it approaches an uncomfortable two and a half minutes of complete silence, Otabek looks up in concern.

“Yura?”

“You…” Yuri opens his mouth and closes it when nothing comes out. “How long did this take you?”

“I was looking on and off,” Otabek tries offhandedly, but there’s a hint of nervousness only Yuri can hear. “I mean. You don’t have to use them. It’s just a few links there for you, just in case. I wasn’t sure which exact programs you were looking for…”

Otabek trails off as Yuri gets down onto the floor.

“Yura?”

Yuri just puts a hand to Otabek’s cheek and searches his face for signs of hesitation.

“ _Julliard,_ Beka?”

“Why not? I found some scholarships you can apply for.”

Because it’s literally thousands of dollars. Because it’s a plane flight away from everything he’s ever known. Because Yuri’s good, but he’s not _that_ good. But he can't say any of that, so all he does is hug Otabek and murmur a quiet “thank you” into his chest.

“I believe in you,” Otabek says, and the hug Yuri gets back only makes him feel guiltier.

 

::

 

Nikolai finds Yuri at the kitchen table, working on applications on his laptop, lips pressed together. “How does it look?” Nikolai asks, sitting down with him. Yuri only just seems to realize his grandpa is even there, looking up and smiling briefly.

“It’s okay,” he answers. Nikolai recognizes the university's seal.

"Following Otabek and Mila's footsteps, huh?" he says in gruff amusement. Yuri twists his hair without answering. "Keeping it close to home?" Nikolai continues reading down the application, before he stops and frowns. 

“Yurochka,” Nikolai asks gruffly. “Why didn’t you decide on a major?”

Yuri twists the strands even more; an old nervous habit he never grew out of. “I… don’t really know what I want to do yet.” Nikolai can’t count how many times Yuri’s done that when he’s lied.

Nikolai isn’t a fool. He remembers when Anatoly had been applying to colleges himself. He remembers the excitement in his eyes, as his son had gone on and on about engineering, but stipulated how it was an extremely competitive major and easier to get into undeclared. Somehow, Nikolai knew this wasn’t the case for his grandson. 

“You love to dance.” A fact and an accusation at the same time. Yuri stops twisting his hair. 

“Dedushka, dancing doesn’t… I know it’s not practical.”

Nikolai isn’t surprised, exactly. But he’d hoped this wouldn’t happen. 

“I…” Yuri looks firmly to the table, fists clenched. “You gave up so much to take care of me. And I always want to take care of you too. Dancing doesn’t let me do that.”

“Yurochka,” Nikolai grumbles, guiltily. “Don’t worry about taking care of me.”

“Dedushka,” Yuri looks up at him, shaking his head. “Don’t say that.”

Nikolai knows he’s young for a grandfather. He was only 48 when Yuri was born and 52 when he took him in. He’s still working at 66, still got a few years of labor in him, but last year Yuri picked up a job to take care of him. Started paying for their utilities and groceries, so all Nikolai had to worry about was the mortgage and their internet/phone bill. 

“You're so young,” Nikolai tries again,  disapprovingly.

“You're not getting any younger,” Yuri replies, smirking, even if his eyes tell a different story. 

 

::

 

He's shaking. The lighter keeps flicking in his hand but nothing comes out, no flame, no gas.

Otabek is failing one of his classes. 

Unexpectedly, it catches fire, and the resulting spark burns his thumb. Otabek drops it, more from shock than from pain. He hasn't done that in years.

_An F._

He's shaking.

A core class, with a fucking F, and he can retake it for grade forgiveness; but it doesn't _matter_ if he passes because his overall GPA has taken a dive from the last quarter. He's not competitive enough to keep up. He doesn't understand the material, he doesn't like this major, he doesn't want to keep performing on the lower end of the curve and--

He needs a fucking smoke, he needs to breathe, but nothing's coming in, the ground is cold and everything is smeared colors and he's sweating but it's cold and he's scared scared he's so _scared--_

"...bek? OTABEK?"

\--and nothing makes sense, he can't read any of the notes without Googling them, his parents, what are his parents going to--

"Hey! _Breathe_ with me, okay?"

He struggles to focus on their voice, on the hands gripping his shoulders. He's panting now, he thinks. He's not sure.

"Good, keep doing that... _In..._ Out... _In..._ Out..."

Please don't be Yuri, please don't be Yuri, _please--_

Red hair. Mila.

"... Hey... You with me?" He feels himself nodding a little too late.

"I'm fine," he rasps, and he knows it's a lie and she knows it's a lie. They both ignore the cold wetness slipping down his face. His lips taste like salt.

"Here..." Noises of something unscrewing. "Take a drink of this."

He feels a water bottle shoved into his hands, the cheap plastic crunching under his nerveless fingers. He gulps it on automatic, swallows, and chokes a little. He tries again, more slowly.

"Shit, it's okay..." Soothing hands up and down his back, like his mother used to do when he was a child. It's humiliating and comforting at the same time. They're sitting on the ground, and Mila is wearing a suede skirt, but she doesn't seem to care. "It's okay... You're okay."

"Please don't tell Yuri."

Silence. Otabek's too exhausted to feel embarrassed. He knows Mila doesn't owe him anything, but he'd been trying so hard to handle things on his own. 

"What happened?" she asks instead of answering. Otabek doesn't look at her. They wait in a long, surprisingly patient silence. He doesn't know how to explain it without talking, until he remembers his phone is still in his pocket. Wordlessly, he fishes it out, and pulls up the webpage with his grades still on it. He hands it over to her. 

"Oh..." Otabek hates the sorrow in her voice, punched out of her as she cups the screen in her hands. "Beks. I'm so sorry. What are your options?"

"I don't have any." This surprises him as much as it does her.

He expects the silence to pull on for longer, but there's a flash of steel in her eyes as she says, "Yes you do." More silence. "We're setting an appointment with your adviser."

"... We?" Otabek asks incredulously. 

"We," she confirms. "I won't tell Yuri. But that's only if I'm coming with you. Okay?"

Otabek understands now why Yuri loves Mila quite so fiercely.  

"Okay," he answers tiredly. She smiles, light as a feather. "... Thank you."

"Any time."

 

::

 

"--how many of your friends I should be expecting?"

Yuri tunes back into the conversation a little late.

"For what?" he asks, and Victor sighs dramatically. Yuri has the sinking feeling he'd just missed something important. 

"Your graduation party of course," and Yuri instantly freezes because what the fuck? Graduation isn't until June. It's still only November. 

"Who says I'm having one?" he says anyways, because that's the more important point at hand.

"Your grandfather, when he put me in charge." Victor spears a piece of grilled asparagus and continues, oblivious to Yuri's discomfort. "You're graduating high school, it's a huge milestone. Of course we're celebrating."

"We're very proud of you," Yuuri interjects kindly, over his piece of steak. Yuri stares down at his plate, drawing patterns into the scalloped potatoes. He's not hungry anymore. 

"What if I don't want to celebrate?" Yuri finds himself suddenly defiant, for reasons he's not entirely sure of. Yuuri gives him an odd look.

"Of course you want to," Victor asserts, as if Yuri's words hadn't computed. Yuri is immediately and irrationally furious. "Why wouldn't you want to?"

"Maybe I'm just not excited, alright?" Yuri bites out. The fork goes down, Yuri takes a deep breath. He ignores Yuuri's worried scrutiny across the table, ignores the slight hurt in the downturn of Victor's eyes. 

"Yurio, is everything okay?" Yuuri asks at the same time that Victor demands, "How are you not more excited about this?" 

“Because everyone's leaving and I'm not going anywhere.”

The silence almost rings.

Or is that just Yuri's eardrums doing all the ringing? 

Where the fuck did that even come from? Did he just say that?

Victor is the first one to bounce back, and he does so by immediately, kindly spouting all the encouraging shit that Yuri _doesn't_ want to hear: of course he's going somewhere, he's got so much talent, the world is his oyster because he's young and he can do anything he wants--

"No," Yuri says but Victor isn't listening _._  "No, you don't get it, I  _ _can't."__

"Yurio, of course you can--"

Yuri finds himself slamming down his silverware before he can think better of it and yelling across the table, "THAT'S EASY FOR YOU TO SAY, you never had anyone else to worry about!" 

This time the silence doesn't ring. Victor and Yuuri are both stunned. Yuri's ears are burning. 

"I need to take a walk," he hears himself excusing, grabbing his jacket off the back of his chair and taking off before either of them could get up.

 

::

 

“He doesn’t quite get it sometimes.”

Yuuri waits to see the effect his words have, but Yuri doesn't slow down for a minute. He continues wearing a rut into the rooftop garden of their apartment complex. He kicks at the cement every now and again and Yuuri hopes none of the neighbors complain.

“No, he doesn’t,” Yuri answers in a dark mutter. Yuuri lets him stew for a minute, shuffling from foot to foot. "I shouldn't have... Just. It pisses me off because he's just followed his dreams all his life and money's never been an issue and he'd never even fucking _been_ to college--" Yuuri watches Yuri chew on his tongue before bursting out, "And he retired a fucking legend! Like, good for him, but it's not that easy for the rest of us, okay?" 

Yuuri doesn't say anything, letting Yuri's pacing get slower and slower until offering, “Did I ever tell you how I used to be a figure skater?”

Yuri stops his pacing. He stares at Yuuri like a lot of things were only now making sense. "Why’d you stop?”

“Because I was…” Yuuri sheepishly lowers his head and sighs. “I wasn't bad. I made it to Nationals a few times and once, internationally. But I wasn’t good enough that I could justify my parents working that hard to support me, especially if my body would just crap out on me in another few years. I retired around your age, graduated with honors, and went to college for computer software design instead. I make enough now that I can send money home and not worry about supporting myself.”

Yuri is still looking at him. “Do you regret it?”

Yuuri’s glasses are a little fogged from the night humidity, so he cleans them on his shirt. The lights of the city blaze down below. “Let’s just say I understand where you’re coming from. And it’s never as easy as people seem to think.”

Yuri, who doesn't possess much tact to begin with, seems to struggle for what to say. “I’m sorry. I didn’t…”

“Don’t be sorry." Yuuri smiles, staring down at the dark, blurry shape of his lenses. "I’m not unhappy. In fact, it’s the opposite. It was an easy choice for me.”

Yuuri lifts them back to his face. Crystal clear.

“I loved ice skating," he continues. "Victor loved my skating too. He tried to get me back into it, but... I mean, it was a dream I had for a while. But it wasn't my only dream. I wanted to be happy. I wanted to be with my family. And I liked being financially stable and _home._ God, I hated moving around so much. I liked being able to make everyone’s lives easier, not just my own.”

He takes a breath to look at Yuri. The next words feel like he's admitting to something he's never realized on his own. “I couldn’t do it. I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to work so hard towards something if the end result was just going to make me unhappy.”

There. He said it. That looks like it hits a little too close, because Yuri ducks his head. Yuuri feels a rush of kindness towards him in that moment. It's like looking into a mirror sometimes, for all their differences.

"He respected that?" Yuri asked.

"Yeah. He did." That seemed to surprise him. “Hey... You know, at the end of the day, it’s your life." Yuri looks up. "He knows that. I hope you do too. If you can live with it, then do it. Otherwise, don’t.”

Yuri doesn't say anything. But the corner of his mouth pulls up into a rueful smile. Yuuri counts that as a win.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!! I've missed you!! There's been a lot of good news I've been dying to share :) 
> 
> In the time I've been MIA:
> 
> \- I graduated with my Bachelor's degree in Psych (!!)  
> \- I started my first big girl job (!!!) as a bilingual mental health educator. Like, I have business cards and a work phone and everything??? it's been wild  
> \- I've been dating and now am in a relationship (!!!!) with the healthiest guy I've ever met. Yanno that cliche of "you'll meet the one that makes you realize why none of the others worked out"? That's him  
> \- And just recently, I'm starting a second job (?!!) as an in-home infant specialist before I start applying for Master's programs in the Fall (marriage and family therapy)
> 
> The bad news:  
> \- This means slower updates. Way slower. So slow I'm officially announcing a hiatus just bc it's not fair to keep you guys waiting. 
> 
> But fret not! This break has given me a fresh perspective and I have the next 3 chapters queued up. I am working diligently until the plot and characterization are up to my standards before uploading each. This fic is expected to be about 17 chapters, so we're getting there.
> 
> Thank you for hanging in here with me, I love and miss you so much ♡ This story has been so worthwhile and it WILL get done. That is a guarantee.


	14. you'll know it when you feel it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> disclaimer: this chapter is not meant to be taken as life or school advice

* * *

"Alright, so [Someone Like You by Mayer Hawthorne](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=db5g8IYHNv8)... [Marry You by Bruno Mars](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8lqF_huno40)... Can you add [Sun Don't Shine](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=79YDgv_zWA4)?"  
  
"The one with Will Heard or just the original Sonnentanz version?"

"Which is the one with the vocals?" Isabella asks. Otabek scrolls through his Spotify and adds both to the playlist to be safe.

"I think the Will Heard. It's okay, I'll figure out a way to mix this."

"Thanks Beks," she sighs in appreciation. "You won't have to DJ the whole night, I promise. Just throw on a playlist and I swear no one will know the difference."

"Consider it a wedding gift," Otabek says magnanimously. "You're also doing me a favor, taking JJ off our hands."

"Oh right, I'm doing the world a public service," she smirks, uncrossing her legs and flopping backwards onto the couch. Sitting on the floor puts her slightly below eye-level to Otabek, but she can tell he's doing one of those smiles that don't require his mouth. She stretches, relieving the pressure in her lower back from sitting and filling out all these wedding invitations. She wishes JJ would hurry up and get back from class.

"[Rockateer](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RcmKbTR--iA)?" Otabek asks mildly. 

"THANK YOU FOR REMINDING ME." Isabella can't believe she'd forgotten JJ's embarrassing high school phase. He still denies liking Far East Movement to this day. Otabek nods in approval.

"So, what's it like marrying JJ?" Otabek asks after she's filled out a few more invitations.

"I wouldn't know. I haven't done it yet."

"Ah." Otabek scrolls through some more playlists for ideas. He's currently toying with some Frank Sinatra ballads and Isabella approves of the classiness. "Well, congrats. You handle him better than anyone I know."

"What's there to handle," Isabella asks fondly, playing with a lock of her own hair. She needs a trim, her A-line is growing out. "He's whiny, but I can live with that. The secret is just listening." She stops to think about it. "And sex. Constant sex and listening." 

"Ahh," Otabek says.

"How are things with Yuri?" He starts to open his mouth, but closes it almost immediately. "We're good." 

Isabella raises an eyebrow. "That's good. Were you about to say something else?"

Otabek is the living definition of a poker face. "Nope."  

Ah. Anyone else would probably let this go. But Isabella trusts her intuition and she's used to waiting JJ out when he's resistant to sharing his worries.

"Okay," she agrees, going back to her invitations. The silence seems to work on Otabek because he starts talking again.

"We're good," he articulates slowly after a long five seconds. "I guess it's just me that's not good."

Isabella stops writing. "Oh. Is everything okay?"

Otabek stares at the screen as he talks. "Yeah, everything's... fine." 

 

::

 

_“Need any help applying?” Otabek asked, kissing the tip of Yuri’s shoulder. "Deadlines are this weekend. I can help you shoot your audition video."_

_Yuri tapped a few keys and avoided his eyes._ _“No. It's fine.”_

_Seriously?_

_“Yura,” Otabek sighed. “ I just want to help.”_

_"Thanks. But I'm fine. I already sent in the application to this school."_

_"Okay," Otabek said carefully. Yuri wasn't fooled though._

_"You don't want me here," Yuri stated flatly. "Why?"_

_"We're not... exactly known for the arts?"_

_"Yeah? And?"_

_"Aren't you... interested in Dance?"_

_"No?"_

_Otabek got off Yuri’s shoulders._

_"Oh." He's trying so hard, but Yuri definitely could probably tell something was off. Otabek wasn't the greatest liar. "What are you applying for?"_

_"Business? I don't know. I've got two years to figure it out, and it's a good school."_

_"That's... True."_

_"Okay, spit it out," and shit, since when was Yuri this defensive? "What's wrong with me going to the same school as you? The one with the good reputation **right next**_ _to my house?"_

_"... You know why.”_

_They both sat there in silence._

_"Why are you trying to get rid of me?" Yuri spat out._

_What the fuck? "I'm not."_

_"Then why all these far away schools? Why don't..." Otabek watched Yuri's knuckles whiten on his knees. "Doesn't this scare you? At all?"_

_They stared each other down for a long time, until Otabek broke the silence incredulously._

_"Of course it does."_

 

::

 

Otabek hesitates. "Nothing's... happened. Yuri's applying to schools. I'm not sure where I'm going to be in a few months."

Oh. Isabella almost doesn't quite know what to do with this soft admission. Otabek glances up for a second, and when they make eye contact, he seems to let go of whatever thought he's been holding onto.

"I don't have much of a choice in dealing with myself. But he does."

Wow. Otabek's trust is something to witness; they aren't close. 

"Beks..." What's the best way to say this? "You know Yuri's crazy about you, right? Are you afraid he's gonna just leave all this behind once he goes?"

Otabek hesitates. "No." Isabella is trying to piece together the expression on his face. "I'm afraid he won't leave."

For a minute, Isabella just stares at him scrolling behind the safety of his laptop, before it clicks. 

"You don't want him to stay... because of you?" she guesses. He doesn't look at her, but he nods nonetheless.

 

::

 

 _"I don't want to talk about this," Yuri laughed humorlessly. Otabek stifled a sigh,_   _remembering he was supposed to be the mature one here._

 _"We can't **not**_   _talk about it."_

_"Sure we can. Graduation's not for a year, right? What's the rush?"_

_"Yura."_

_"Look, I know what I'm doing, okay?"_

_"... Yura."_

_Yuri hesitated, then looked._

_"Where do you see us in a year?" Otabek asked, swallowing the lump in his throat._

_"Together?" Yuri tried._

_"Okay. Where do you see you in a year?" Silence. Of course._

_"Here?" Yuri questioned, sounding almost unsure of where this was going. "Why? Where do YOU see yourself?"_

_"I don't know. Home, maybe. Working for my parents." Yuri flinched._

_"Oh."_

_Otabek chose not to hear the tinge of judgment in Yuri's tone. If Yuri wasn't even going to follow through with his own passions, he had no say about Otabek's decisions. Otabek knew he had a safety net. It didn't mean he was proud of it. It didn't make this situation any better._

_"I forgot," Yuri admitted, eyes sliding to the ground. "You actually are going through with it."_

_Now Otabek was the one biting down on his own tongue._

_"Yeah. That was always the plan."_

_"I mean, that's not so far." Yuri tried again, neutrally. "We could try to make it work."_

_"Yeah. I just wanted to let you know, so you wouldn't..." Wrong move. His reassurances trailed off as the air seemed to grow colder instead._

_"So I wouldn't what?" Yuri asked stiffly._

_Fuck. "Nothing."_

_"No, what is it?"_

_"... So you wouldn't have to stay here."_

_"Okay, that's nice. But my life doesn't revolve around you. Also, why do you keep pushing that point?"_

_Otabek wasn't in the mood for a fight, but it seemed a little inevitable at this point._ _"Because I don't want you to have regrets, alright? Not everyone gets to have this opportunity--"_

_"Look, I appreciate the support and all, but I'm not you, and you've got to stop projecting on me."_

_"I'm not--"_

_They both stopped, staring each other down._

_"Yes you are."_

_They never finished the conversation._

 

::

 

"Stop projecting on me? Yikes," Isabella sighs. Otabek shrugs. "Were you?"

"... Yeah," Otabek admits. "He's got a future. I..." Isabella stays silent. "I've seen his SAT scores. He scored in the 90th percentile."

"Holy SHIT."

"Yeah. He's..." Otabek pauses, takes a deep breath, closes his eyes. "He's a genius. I've watched him dance for years, he's got the talent and work ethic. He could go anywhere he wants and he just... won't. He wants to stay here. Or he wants to... to stay with me."

"Why is that a bad thing?" Isabella asks gently. Otabek's laugh was probably supposed to be gentle, but it's harsh. 

"I'm not Yuri."

Oh, Otabek.

"I'm failing my major. I don't know what I'm doing, or what I want, and I don't have what it takes." Otabek chews on his lower lip, the only sign of emotion. "I get panic attacks. I'm anxious about almost everything. I don't know if JJ told you." Otabek still isn't looking at her, and Isabella freezes uncomfortably, put on the spot. "It's okay if he has. I think everyone knows at this point."

"Otabek... It's okay." He won't look at her, so she does her best to inject some comforting certainty into her voice. "He's not... Yuri's not _better_ than you. These things aren't ideal, but they're not exactly things you can help. JJ gets anxious too. None of us think any differently of him."

She's about to go into some practical advice about his major when Otabek asks, "How... How do you deal with JJ?" 

 _Oh. Oh god, don't laugh._ She struggles to keep a straight face, but a little smile peeks through. Unlike JJ, Otabek isn't the best with his words when push comes to shove. "I don’t know, Beks. I never see it as  _dealing_ with it, I guess. There's way worse things than his anxiety?”

That seems to catch Otabek's attention. “Like what?"

Oh boy, Isabella is _ready_ with that answer.

“He’s scattered brained,” Isabella ticks them off on her fingers. “Impulsive. Overambitious. Takes on a million things, and panics trying to get all of it done. Is a flirt. Doesn’t realize he’s a flirt. Is cute, so everyone always goes for it, and either he has to set them straight or I do. Went through a vegetarian phase, and convinced me to do it with him, before bailing on it WITHOUT TELLING ME. Always buys orange juice with the pulp still in it--”

“Uh.”

“I _know_ right? Who drinks pulp?”

“Not that. I mean that’s…" Otabek struggles for tact briefly and gives up. "A lot.”

“Of course it is. I’m sure Yuri’s list for you is even longer.” Otabek winces. “We don’t love people because they’re perfect, Beks.”

“I…” Somehow the thought seems to never have occurred to him before. “Why _do_ you love him?” he asks instead.

Isabella thinks on it. “I think... I wouldn’t be willing to _deal_ with any of this, if it was anyone else. I don’t feel this way about anyone else.” 

Man, she can _feel_ herself softening just thinking about him.

“Even if they did exactly the same things he did, or they did it better than him. They’re not him.”

Otabek is looking at her with a brand new respect in his eyes and she shrugs. "And maybe it's the same for Yuri. Beks, Yuri's helped JJ handle your shit for years and he's not running for the hills yet. You're together, you're in love, and honestly? You've got a good thing going. Don't be so quick to doubt that.”

He gives her a small, real smile, and she mirrors it back slowly. They sit in companionable silence for a minute.

"He's capable of making his own decisions. Let him."

“You’re good for JJ,” Otabek says lightly, making Isabella shut up in surprise. “Thanks,” Otabek finishes. 

He starts playing a song suggestion as she's thinking of how to reply.

_You're a falling star, you're the get away car... You're the line in the sand... when I go too far._

"I don't like Michael Buble," Isabella says.

Otabek smirks and something feels more comfortable between them already.

::

 

Yuri comes over, even though Otabek hadn't been sure he'd still want to come after their fight.

"Hey. You still want some company?" Yuri asks, golden and uncertain in the porch light outside. He's wearing a soft green flannel that Otabek is pretty sure Yuri stole from him. Yuri is nervously chewing on the corner of his lip. Otabek softens instantly.

"You got that from me, didn't you?" Otabek asks, resting his thumb on Yuri's mouth. Yuri stops, confused, before smiling. 

"Maybe. Want it back?"

He meant the lip biting thing, but at least his suspicions are confirmed.

"Nah," Otabek says anyways. 

Later that night, Yuri curls on top of Otabek more than usual, cat-like in his need for comfort.

“Mila’s ex broke up with her because of the distance,” Yuri reminds him as they're falling asleep, fingers tightening unconsciously into Otabek’s sleeve.

“I’m not Mila’s ex,” Otabek says with a small smile, tucking the hair behind Yuri’s ear. “And you’re not Mila.”

They lay there quietly, both staring at the ceiling fan, before Yuri breaks the silence.

"I've been thinking a lot. About what you said. I think about you. And dedushka." Otabek remains silent. "And I feel selfish."

“We’re still going to be here for you." Yuri's fingers curl tighter. "It's not selfish," Otabek mumbles into Yuri's hair. "Not if we want the same things for you."

Yuri's chewing on his lower lip again. Otabek waits. "I just don't want things to change." His next words catch at Otabek’s heart. “... I don’t know what it’s like not to be close to you.”

Otabek leans his forehead against Yuri’s and just breathes in this moment for a while.

“... I don’t know what it’s like either,” Otabek admits, proud that his voice doesn’t crack. “Of course I’m going to miss you. But I never want you to hold back because of that.”

"I don't..." Yuri clings tighter. "Fuck, I don't even wanna think about what that's gonna be like. If I'm not even  _there._ If I can't even fucking hold your hand or be there if you need me or..."

"I know. But I think we can do it." Otabek waits for Yuri's agreement, but nothing comes. "You don't think we can do it?"

Silence. And then...

"I don't know. Would you still even want to be together?"

That stings.

Otabek shrugs. "I mean... I don't know if you know this, but you're kind of it for me." Yuri stares at him so he continues. "If it's with you? Yeah. I would."

"What do you mean I'm it?"

Otabek sighs. He doesn't like how vulnerable he feels admitting all this right now, but he makes one last effort. 

"I mean that I'm tired. Yuri, I've been dating nonstop for years. After you? If it comes to that, I'm fine just being single."

He watches as Yuri's guard goes down, bit by bit. Yuri ducks his face into Otabek's chest to hide, but Otabek's seen him cry before. Maybe not often, because Yuri isn't much of a crier. But he listens to Yuri's ragged breaths, tightening his arms around him.

"Would _you_ still want to be together?" Otabek whispers.

The answer is immediate. "Of course."

"Then don't worry about us. Worry about getting in."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact: writing this and the next chapter were the most challenging parts of this whole fic, no joke. not only for the dialogue between Otabek and Isabella, but because they're starting to make hard decisions now where there aren't really right answers. i went through 800000 edits before i was happy with this one.


	15. take the shot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> disclaimer: this story is not meant to be taken as life or financial advice. 
> 
> special thank you to biscuitdandy for actually giving me financial advice (you're awesome)

* * *

"I..."

Nikolai looks over from where he is at the stove, expectantly. Yuri immediately shuts his mouth.

"Were you about to say something, Yurochka?"

"What... What was it like when dad went away?" Yuri says all in one rush. Then he seems to realize what he said and hastily added, "For school."

Oh. Nikolai sets the stove on low, to buy himself some more time. It's been a while since Yuri brought up his parents. The reminder doesn't hurt the way it used to when he was little. 

"It was... different," Nikolai says thoughtfully. "Your papa was an only child. It took a while for your babushka and me to adjust. But we did and four years later he came back and had you." He chuckles. "Why?"

Yuri is now peeling the potatoes with his head down, refusing to make eye contact. The peels are coming out choppy and rough, unlike the neat spirals from earlier. "No reason."

Nikolai isn't an idiot. He sighs fondly. 

"Of course we missed him. But your babushka and I had each other. And Lilia and Yakov were our dear friends. Victor would come around after practices sometimes, and life was never too quiet."

"Oh." Yuri doesn't say what they're both thinking. Nikolai had been waiting for a better time to tell him, but this moment seemed as good as any.

“Your babushka always wanted to open a bakery.” Yuri looks up, seeming confused at the change in topic. “We promised ourselves we’d start one, after your father went away for school. He had a full ride scholarship, you know.”

"Why didn't you?"

Nikolai shrugs, moving to the cabinets to grab some spices. They're out of onion powder. He'll just make do. 

"It never seemed like the right time. Something else always was more important. First the house, then your papa needed help when he moved out, then he had you... Next year, next year, we'd say. And then... Well." Nikolai's voice trails off. It's still a little hard to talk about. The accident. Elena's osteosarcoma. Little Yuri sleeping alone in Tolya's old bedroom. "You know."

“Are you telling me you didn’t because of me?” Yuri asks in a small voice.

“No." Nikolai carefully dices some carrots without looking up. "I’m telling you that maybe it's time.”

Silence. Chop-chop-chop. “What?" 

“Lilia and Yakov have been talking about it for a while." Nikolai sets his knife down. "They’ve been convincing me that they’ll help with the start up, and applying for loans from the bank… A friend of mine is closing down their business by the park, and said they would turn the lease over to me for cheap. I wanted to talk to you about it.”

Yuri drops the potato he's holding into the sink. “Wait… me?”

“Yes, you." Nikolai puts a steadying hand on Yuri's shoulder. "We're both the most important thing each other's got. And I know this is a risk. It affects you too." Nikolai doesn't remove his hand. “Should I do it?”

Looking at Yuri’s face right now, Nikolai remembers the time another pair of piercing green eyes had coaxed him into saying yes.

 

::

 

_“You've already sacrificed as a parent," Lilia had said. Her aristocratic accent was cool and crisp, hardly tempered by the vodka she was sipping. “To continue doing so as a grandparent isn't noble, Kolya. It's foolish.”_

_“What she means to say,” Yakov had cut in sensibly, “Is that you've saved up for decades. Even if you quit now, Yuri still has the savings from his parents… Besides, you're a hard worker with good recipes.”_

_Yakov had gruffly taken a sip of his whiskey, as Nikolai nursed his drink, deep in thought. The only thing Nikolai would ever thank the hard, blue-collar union jobs he’s worked since coming to America for were the seniority, raises, and benefits behind him. They’ve helped him survive, but they’ve also made him unwilling to take chances. Not when Yuri was depending on him._

_“College is expensive,” Nikolai started slowly, but Lilia was already shaking her head. “I would rather the money went to him... Lilia, you of all people know how competitive dancing is, he can't work while--”_

_“Don't you see? There are no good programs around here for what he wants to do. And he refuses to move away. He isn't going to dance. He's barely considering college.”_

_Nikolai had folded his hands under his chin. He didn't want a working life for Yuri. He didn't want a joyless career for him either._

_Yakov sighed and shrugged. "You know, you two both do an awful lot of sacrificing for each other. It's a shame neither is willing to reap the benefits."_

_Nikolai rubbed at his nose and drained his glass._

_"He's learning from you what kind of man he wants to be. Safe. Loyal. Reliable.”_

_“I know,” Nikolai said heavily. He'd never seen those traits as bad things before._

_"They're not," and Nikolai hadn't realized he'd said it out loud. There were no hard edges in Lilia's voice this time, which had Nikolai looking up. "You're a good father. And a good grandfather. But Kolya_ _..." Nikolai was unprepared to see the fine lines in her face gentling. "Lenochka would have wanted to see you happy. And so do we."_

_In that moment, Nikolai missed Elena so keenly he couldn't breathe. He suspected Lilia, in her composed porcelain way, did too._

_Yakov solemnly finished off his beer and offered him another one._

_“You should,” Yakov had said then,_ and Yuri says it now. “You should consider it.”

 

::

 

Nikolai comes back to the present, noticing the firm set to Yuri's jaw.

“Why?” Nikolai asks, and they both know who the answer was really for. Yuri answers anyway.

“Because I know you're holding back on me, old man." Nikolai smiles fiercely. "Your pirozhski are the best in this whole damn country. I want everyone else to know it too."

“You're a smart mouth, boy. Take your own advice.”

"Fine." He bear-hugs Yuri and Yuri clings back tightly after a second's pause. They don't separate right away. 

"Look for some scholarships. And ask Lilia what she knows. She has connections. She's just waiting for you to make use of them."

"I know, dedushka."

"It's not for forever, Yurochka. It's okay to go."

And those seem to be the magic words, because Yuri buries his face into Nikolai's shoulder like he used to do when he was very, very young. His entire body goes still. Nikolai catches a tiny sniffle that he knows better than to point out. He just smooths back Yuri's hair instead. 

"... Okay," is all Yuri concedes in the end, after a long minute of hugging and silence. "Okay."

“ _Obaldét!_ " Nikolai snorts, to hide his own sniffles. "Took you long enough, you stubborn boy. I swear, it's the Italian in you."

 _"Hah,"_  is the cheeky response as Yuri finally pulls back. His eyes are like Karina’s. Maybe he got it from his mother, all her dancing and wildness. “Maybe. Or maybe I get it from you.” 

"You should be so lucky. Go work on your applications."

 

::

 

Yuri smells the wafting cloud of spices and garlic as soon as he walks into Otabek’s apartment. Either Otabek JUST came back with take-out… or he tried to cook for himself. Again. He's been doing that lately, with mixed results.

“Yura?” Otabek calls from the kitchen. “Are you hungry?”

Fuck. _Just do it, Plisetsky, he’s learning._ “Sure, make me a bowl?”

The smell is promising as Otabek sets the soup down in front of him. No hints of charcoal. Yuri swirls his spoon and no onion peels or egg shells float to the surface. Though that may simply be because the recipe hadn’t called for them...

Yuri fully prepares himself to lie. But nothing could’ve prepared him for the moment when he takes the first bite.

“Oh my god, what the fuck,” Yuri says with his mouth full. “This tastes _great_.”

Otabek’s eyes light up. “Really?”

Yuri almost has a heart attack from how cute he just found that. He swallows.

“Yes.” Yuri squints accusingly. “Did you buy this from a restaurant? Are you lying to me?”

Otabek doesn’t even take offense at that. “No, I just kept seasoning it until it tasted right. And I kept the heat low. Could it use anything else?”

The broth is a little salty for Yuri’s tastes. And the potatoes could’ve been diced a little smaller. But the chicken falls apart on his spoon and there’s honest to god _vegetables_ in it, and Yuri has never been so proud.

“It’s perfect, babe.”

“You sure?” Otabek asks doubtfully. “Maybe more cumin?”

Otabek tastes it once more, just to prove to himself that he was right, and Yuri catches his hand. He kisses the knuckles and Otabek rolls his eyes.

“It’s delicious,” Yuri reasserts. “I’m really impressed.”

“... Okay.” Otabek relents, getting up to ladle himself some. Yuri watches him set it onto the coffee table and plop onto the couch to join him. Otabek blows on his spoonful, looking up after a moment when he notices Yuri still staring at him. “What?”

Nothing. Yuri’s just going to miss this.

“Can I have some more?” Yuri asks instead, just to watch Otabek do a double take as he shows off his almost empty bowl.

“ _How did you...”_ Almost burned his tongue off, that’s how. But the pleased look on Otabek’s face was worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're almost there, my dudes. Just 3 more chapters
> 
> On the brighter side, what's the first thing you learned how to cook? It was chicken tortilla soup for me


	16. doesn't have to last forever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Victor is the Vaguely Responsible Scratch That REALLY Irresponsible Older Cousin who is Yuri's introduction to all kinds of shit
> 
> So before I edited the tags, one of them included "Yuuri Just Gives Lap Dances When He's Drunk, He Doesn't Count"...

* * *

“How did you know that…” Yuri clears his throat, reconsiders, and hurriedly huffs, “Nevermind.”

“What?” Victor looks back from where he’s considering the window display of men’s watches. They were on the hunt for a present for Yuuri’s birthday… which Victor had already taken him to Japan for, but _still_. “Why’d you stop?”

“Ugh. Victor, you’ve been staring at that thing for ages, just get it.”

“I don’t know if he’ll actually _wear_ the Rolex though,” Victor laments, distracted. “He’s so PRACTICAL.”

“Jesus, you two are so different. What do you even see in him?” 

Victor looks at him with a shit eating grin on his face, and Yuri stiffens, scenting danger on the wind. “The same thing you saw.”

“SHUT UP!”

“Otabek better watch out,” Victor sighs melodramatically, as Yuri lunges for him, only to get pushed back with one strong arm. “Does he know about your huge crush--"

“YOU PROMISED WE WOULD NEVER SPEAK OF THAT.”

“You’re so WRONG if you think I’m ever letting this go.” Victor will never admit it, but his most cherished hobby in life is giving Yuri shit now that he’s older. He used to idolize Victor, but this works too. “It’s okay, Yurio. I _understand.”_

“Fuck off! I didn’t even know I was gay yet!”

“And yet you couldn’t leave poor Yuuri alone,” Victor coos, hands to his heart. “Jealous?”

“I wasn’t jealous,” Yuri grumbles. “I just couldn’t believe you made it past four months and he was still around. Since when were you _committed?_ ”

“Since Yuuri Katsuki,” Victor answers innocently. “I think he’s The One.”

“What… What makes you sure?” Oh. There it is. The question Yuri had avoided asking earlier. Victor watches him flush in embarrassment and ponders just how far he and Otabek had gotten in their own relationship. Victor debates either giving a heartfelt answer, which would surely make things more emotional… or giving an honest answer.

“I think it was the way he danced,” Victor settles for in the end, completely straight faced. Yuri looked up at him, surprised that Victor was taking him seriously.

“Ballet, right?”

“Any kind of dancing, really.” Victor smiles nostalgically. “My favorite are his lap dances.”

“ _EW_ EW EW GROSS!”

“Don’t ask if you can’t handle the answer,” Victor says primly.

“YOU CANNOT BE SERIOUS.”

“I AM DEAD SERIOUS. I KNEW IT FROM THE MOMENT OUR GROINS TOUCHED.”

“YOU’RE SO FUCKING _DIRTY_.”

“You’re 18 now, you can handle it. Anyways, don’t act like you’re so pure. How’d _you_ know?”

“Know what?” Yuri splutters.

“About Otabek.” Victor is satisfied to see Yuri almost bite his own tongue. “All this talk of ‘The One’. I wasn’t born yesterday. Spill.”

“Judging from your hair, you probably weren’t even born this _century_.”

“Don’t be mean, just ‘cause you can’t talk about your feelings.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Oh, Yuri. 

“I suppose I _could_ just tell you how _I_ knew Yuuri was the one,” Victor sighs, content to torture his way to the information. “It was Phichit’s birthday…”

“I ALREADY KNOW HOW YOU TWO FUCKERS MET.”

“At a night-club downtown,” Victor continues, drowning him out. “Yuuri had downed approximately 6 tequila shots and 4 [AMF’s](http://winedharma.com/en/dharmag/january-2016/amf-drink-recipe-how-make-adios-motherfucker-cocktail) before I came--”

“STOP.”

“--and was indiscriminately giving lap dances when I met him, bless his soul. He invited me to down body-shots off his abs.” Victor’s mouth still salivates at the memory, Yuuri still won’t talk about it, and Yuri’s eyes had only grown wide when he Googled what a body shot was. _You licked the tequila off his STOMACH? And then ate the lime out of his mouth?! What the FUCK, Victor?_

“I GET IT. I’LL FUCKING TALK. JUST SHUT UP.”

Sucker.

“I… I don’t know,” Yuri admits and Victor actually blinks. This wasn’t the answer he was expecting. “I can’t tell if I l-love him--” Oh how adorable, he stumbled over the word. “--because he’s… I mean, if it’s _Beka_ or because he’s just…”

Oh.

“Or because he’s just your first everything?”

“Yeah.” Victor remembers feeling that way.

“I couldn’t tell with Yuuri either,” Victor says honestly, which seems to shock Yuri.

“HOW? You’d been with so many people before him?”

“Yeah, and how many of them did I bring home?” Victor asks patiently. He lets the point sink in, before pushing it. “Yuuri was the first one who was good for me. And I couldn’t… tell, for a long time. If we were good for each other. Yuuri couldn’t either, I think that’s why he avoided me at first.”

“Oh.” Victor had never told Yuri that. “I thought it was always love at first sight for you two.”

“Not really,” Victor chuckled. “It was definitely something we had to work for.”

Yuri looks at him intensely for a second before he finally caves. He sticks his hands in his pockets and glances away. “Otabek... He says I'm kind of it for him." Yuri seems to be examining his Converse as he talks. "And he's been with a lot of people, so... Pretty sure he knows what he wants."

"I see."

"I might be going away. For school." Yuri grinds one heel into the floor. "And I... I want us to work out. I don’t know what it’s like to love anyone else.”

Ah.

“Who says you have to?” Victor side-hugs him, ruffling his hair. “What if you're destined to be one of those high school sweethearts? You know! The ones who end up dating for like, 7 years, before getting married?”

Yuri doesn't even need to answer. The blush highlighting his frown says enough. “I mean, I know that's just a stupid thing to hope for."

“Just because you’re young and this is your first love? No, I don’t think so.”

“You’re such a sap,” Yuri snorts, but he allows the hug.

"Do you want to?" Victor raises an eyebrow when Yuri looks to him in question. "Love anyone else, I mean."

"... not really."

"Then what's the problem?"

Yuri stares at him, like the answer is obvious. "What if we don't work out?"

Well. "... Then you won't work out. Doesn't have to last forever to be worthwhile."

"Wow, thanks," Yuri mutters. 

Victor chuckles. "Honestly Yuri? If you get it right on the first try, I’m just going to be impressed. It's not likely. But it's not impossible either."

"You're useless at giving advice. I like Yuuri better."

"I know," Victor concedes cheerfully. "Me too."

 

::

 

The honey paneled walls look exactly the same.

"Hey."

Every mirror reflects infinitely back, a million copies of himself all leading to the same decision. Yuri hopes he looks like he knows what he's doing. Lilia doesn't acknowledge him immediately, taking her time at the barre. 

"Yuri," she comments, as if he'd stepped out of the studio five minutes ago and came back for something he forgot. Dismissive yet questioning all at once. "What brings you here?"

Yuri doesn't back down. 

"I want an audition video that will get me into Julliard."

Lilia stares at him for a long moment, either impressed by his boldness or angry from his tone. Yuri is sweating through his hoodie when she finally smirks, knife thin. At least she didn't laugh. 

"Show me your _grand jeté_."

He thought he was prepared for this. He wasn't.

"Your posture."

"I know."

"It's been five years."

"I _know._ "

"You've been dancing to that trash hip-hop." Yuri is about to open his mouth to disagree when she says, "Julliard is impossible."

It doesn't hurt as much as he thought it would, to hear it from her, but Yuri can't pretend it doesn't crush him a little bit. Before he can decide between getting angry and taking it back, Lilia smiles. A real smile. One he hasn't seen in a long time.

"Give me one year," she says simply, turning smartly on her heel. "After you graduate. One year, of whatever it takes, until you've proven yourself to my satisfaction. I want no excuses. We'll aim for University of the Arts the following fall. Is that understood?"

She glances back over her shoulder at him, where Yuri's determination is burning, bright as a flame. 

"Done."

Lilia holds his gaze steady for a minute, before nodding once. "Good."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> University of the Arts is ranked #3 in the country for Dance... and is one of the biggest and most diverse in its styles! Julliard is more of a pipe dream, which Lilia knows isn't realistic. 
> 
> Also, for whatever reason, we Americans reeeally don't encourage taking any time off from school. I think the time off will be beneficial to Yuri.
> 
> 2 more chapters to go! Thank you for continuing to stick with this story, no matter how long it's been ♡

**Author's Note:**

> disclaimer: i have a horrifying amount of experience ~~with dating~~ dealing with emotionally damaged people. 
> 
> what i've learned is a) respect for where they're coming from, and b) how not to romanticize them
> 
> write what you know, right?


End file.
